Time after Time
by Jessica Cornell
Summary: Crappy title, but I'm in a hurry at work. Basically picks up after the trip to 1918. Jane goes downstairs to talk to John in his cell. M rating for later.
1. Chapter 1

**AN- Alright quick one-shot that I might make into a couple chapter at least. So beyond pissed that Time After Time got cancelled. I wrote this quickly at work so it isn't proofread. Enjoy.**

The Anders' mansion was quiet that night. Jane had no doubt that HG was still passed out from the drugs the doctors had given him after they'd come back from 1918. Ordinarily, she'd go and check on him to reassure herself, but after what he'd said it was too painful. He was leaving her soon, going back to 1893 London, and the thought caused her heart to ache painfully.

She loved him and that sucked.

But tonight she had other things to do, things that didn't involve HG but his darker counterpart. Not once, but twice John had went against his darker nature and had saved rather than killed. He didn't have to. He could've let HG die and taken the key for himself. He could've killed the girl in the apartment just to spite her pleas for mercy. He was Jack the Ripper, for Pete's sake. By all accounts, a soulless monster who ripped up women for sport. Except he had a soul. She'd seen it more than once. If he was going back to his own time, she wanted to at least say…

What? What exactly did she want to say? More importantly, why did she care at all?

She cared because sometimes there was a look in his eyes that was too vulnerable, just for a fleeting moment. Possibly, his emotions overwhelmed him? She knew that it made him furious that he was forgotten by history. The real him, not the Ripper. It was interesting to consider that he didn't think of his murderous alter-ego as the 'real' him, but his career as a renowned surgeon.

Jane made her way down to the sub-level holding John. Outside the door, a guard stood alert and ready for any possible scenario. She smiled warmly at him. "Hi, I know it's late but I was hoping to talk to him."

The guard looked unimpressed by her smile. "Sorry, no one allowed. Order from Miss Anders."

Jane opened her mouth to attempt to persuade him, but it was unnecessary. A familiar voice spoke behind her.

"It's alright, Dave. Let her in."

Jane turned and saw Griffin. "Thank you. After everything's he's done, I just wanted to talk to him before he leaves. I promise I won't be long."

Griffin gestured at the guard. "She's okay. Miss Walker wouldn't jeopardize Dr. Stevenson's return to his own time." He turned to Jane. "We'll keep an eye on the monitor to make sure he doesn't try anything."

Jane nodded and slid past the guard, Dave. He shut the door behind her and she swallowed. The room was relatively large and bare, all except for a strange sort of clear box in the center. It was more than big enough for a grown man to stand up in and have a few feet of space between him and the ceiling. John sat on the floor propped up against the farthest wall. Sharp lights illuminated the corners of the room, casting light on the cell so that she could see everything inside.

The moment he recognized her, his expression changed from dark calculation to confusion to slight humor. "Miss Walker, a pleasure as always. To what do I owe this visit? Has HG gotten himself into another scrape?"

Jane swallowed once more and walked closer to the walls of the cell. John stood up, probably to appear more in control, she reasoned. "No, HG is fine thanks to you. He's sleeping."

John gave a brief smile. "I aim to please. Your welcome."

"I came down here to talk to you. Before you leave." She glanced away at the last sentence, hating even the thought of the man upstairs leaving her forever.

His eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

"I wanted to say how sorry I am about your son. As important as the timeline is, part of me hoped you'd be able to save him. From what I observed in 1918, he seemed like a good man." She held her breath for some stinging retort for her foolish naiveté and pathetic 'sorrys' but none came. Instead John came closer to the wall and put his hands on it. She stepped back a fraction.

"Yes, he was a good man, my son. A good and stupid man. And because of it, he's dead." His voice was even. He could've been talking about the weather for all the emotion he showed.

Jane's temper rose slightly. "What's the point of being alive if your own life is worthless? We're measured by the things we do and accomplish, John. Your son died a hero, doing what he loved—saving others. When you die, will be able to say the same thing?"

His expression shifted slightly. Something coy entered his eyes. "You know, I do love it when you say my name, Jane. In my time, a woman who wasn't a close relative or a wife would never do so. It's always 'Dr. Stevenson.' 2017 is so full of delights and new experiences. It's going to be quite painful to go back to 1893. For you too, I suspect."

She set her jaw before responding. "HG has to go. I understand that."

"You could come with us," he suggested lightly. "The both of you could live happily ever after walking around on sunshine and rainbows, righting all the world's wrongs."

God, she wanted to go back with HG so badly. It was all she could do not to beg him to take her with him. Shaking her head, she replied, "Sometimes we have to do what's right, not what we want to do." Annoyed, she spoke again, without waiting for him to respond. "I didn't come down here to talk about my love life with you, John."

He braced himself against the wall with both hands, leaning into it slightly. "Is that right? What did you come here for then? Did you simply miss my face?"

"No. I wanted to talk to you about … you."

"Me? My favorite subject. Do go on."

"There's good in you. I've seen it. When you go back to 1893, you can change. Be better. Be the brilliant surgeon I know you are and make the world a better place instead of a darker one."

She'd moved closer to the wall during her little speech and now he stared down at her with fascination. "Oh, Jane, always the do-gooder. I like killing. There's no other feeling that comes close to the rush I get when I thrust my knife into a woman's body, embedding it to the hilt inside her." He spoke slowly, almost seductively, staring down at her appalled and confused expression. "Most of all, I like watching the tiny fleeting emotions cross her face as the life flickers out and she knows without a doubt she's going to die. And there's nothing she can do about it."

"And you hold all the power," Jane said softly. "All the control."

"Yes," he said in a low voice, "I am a bit of control-freak."

Jane suddenly felt as if she'd made a mistake in coming down here. The flirtatious look in his eyes that he usually had when they spoke was gone. In its place was something deeper. Darker. Something dangerous. The air between them changed growing thicker even with a bulletproof glass wall between them. He was describing killing a woman in the same manner that most men would describe having sex. Was that what it was like for him?

She shivered and took a step back. "If a killer is all you ever want to be, that's fine. I just thought a man of your drive and intellect would want to achieve something more giving into his animalistic urges."

He let his eyes drop down to her body. "Oh, there are quite a few animalistic urges I'd like to give into right now, Jane."

"Always the romantic, John." The new voice startled both of them. Jane turned around and saw a redhead woman standing in the doorway. She smiled at both of them in a condescending way and put a hand on her hip. "Watch out for that one, Jane. He's killer in bed."

John's expression went from playful to deadly in the span of a heartbeat. "My only regret is that I didn't kill you before going to bed with you, bitch."

The woman pretended to be shocked. "Such language from a gentleman? Is that how you talk to a lady in your time, John?"

John practically molded his body against the wall in an effort to get closer to her. "A lady? No, of course not. A conniving hag like you, though, I'd make all sorts of exceptions for."

She actually looked briefly annoyed and hurt by his insult. Instead of retaliating, she snapped a finger. Four men dressed in tactical gear and body armor carrying assault rifles rushed in surrounding the cell. Jane's heart pounded.

"What are you doing? Who are you?" she asked.

"Take them both," the redhead ordered. "I can use to girl to keep him in line this time."

"No, you can't do this. You don't know what you're doing," Jane protested, wishing she had her gun.

The woman walked up to her and grabbed a handful of hair. John looked murderous behind them, watching every movement they made. She smiled at him and then glared at Jane. "I know the Ripper better than you ever will."

"He's more than just Jack the ripper," Jane bit out and earned a tight grip around her throat for her trouble.

"Aw, that's so sweet, John. She really believes you aren't a monster. We know better, though, you and I, don't we? You're a psychotic animal who keeps himself relatively chained up, but every now and then the urge to kill just takes over." She gave a quick jerk on Jane's head. "It's who you are and you'll never be anything else. Not without my help, of course."

She let go of Jane's throat and shoved her toward one of her men. Some sort of strange gas began filling John's cell.

"Let her go, Brooke," he snarled at the redhead.

She smiled. "As soon as you agree to cooperate, of course. I must admit to being a little jealous with the way you interact with Jane Walker, but I suppose we're too alike, you and I. Everyone is drawn to the opposite. It's why you and HG were such good friends for so long. He's everything you're not. Don't worry," she said, watching as he sank to his knees and started to pass out, "I won't hurt her too badly."


	2. Chapter 2

When Jane awakened, it was inside what appeared to be a lab. There was medical equipment and shiny chrome surfaces everywhere. Microscopes, syringes, tubes…

"Where am I?" Her speech was slurred. She blinked long and hard to clear her vision. Her memory came back in fragments. She had been attacked by a strange woman in the Ander's mansion. John's cell… He'd been there too. He'd known the woman.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through her and she pushed out of the chair she was occupying. Or at least, she tried to. Looking down at her arms, she found that she was strapped down at both wrists. Ankles too. Her heart pounded.

"Save your strength."

The low accented voice was familiar. "John?" Her eyes flew to the side where she saw him strapped down in a chair just like her. "What's happening? Where are we?"

He tightened his jaw briefly and glared toward the door across the room. "Dr. Monroe's delightful home. I was here once before."

"But why? Who is she? What does she want with us?"

"It's not _you_ I want at all," a new voice rang out. Dr. Brooke Monroe appeared through the door across the room, striding with confidence toward them. Jane noticed a solid glass wall separated them from each other. "It's the Ripper I want. You are just … collateral damage."

"What do you hope to gain by holding us here?" John broke in, sounding bored and irritated. "I told you once before, I don't want your help."

"Don't tell me you didn't find my information about your son helpful. After all, you stole the time machine and went to a lot of effort to save his life, despite it all being for nothing."

"I wasted my time, just like you're wasting yours," he responded. His hands flexed in their restraints. "Let us go and I won't kill you."

Brooke laughed. She gestured at a man in a white lab coat who had followed in her in but stayed silent so far. He began walking over to Jane. "You see, if I'm right about Jane I have all the leverage I need to make you cooperate."

"Cooperate with what?" Jane jerked on her restraints as the man came closer holding what appeared to be several electrodes.

"I want to give John control over his killer instinct, his rage. I can help him if he'd only let me."

"Somehow I doubt that. Why kidnap us if your so altruistic?"

Brooke eyes glittered. "I need test subjects to research on. Who better than the infamous Jack the Ripper? Advances in scientific research sometimes require strong measures. Now, be a good girl and sit still while Kenneth hooks you up."

"What are you doing?" Kenneth put two small white circular objects on either side of her head, over her temples. Panic surged through her. "Wait, don't this."

Brooke laughed. "Oh, it's completely up to John if I hurt you, Jane. I require his cooperation. Until I get it, Kenneth is going to turn that machine up and push the button that will send painful electric shocks through your body. Ken, dear, put it on the lowest setting."

"You think that by doing this I'll give into you?" John sneered and glanced at Jane. He looked away after a moment.

Brooke shrugged. "Well, I thought I'd at least give it a try. Ken, go ahead."

Without warning, white-hot pain throbbed through Jane's skull. Her body contorted in the chair, painfully, for what seemed like forever. A long scream tore from her throat.

Suddenly, it stopped and she choked in a gasping breath.

"That was just a taste," Brooke said. She nodded at Ken who removed the electrodes. "Next time it will be more painful. Come on, let's go," she said letting Ken out through the door. "I'll leave you two to talk it over."

"Oh my god," Jane whimpered unwittingly, closing her eyes against the spasming pain. She tried to take several slow breaths through her nose to calm down. Her body twitched every few seconds with aftershocks. "Who is she?"

John shook his head once, staring ahead. "Someone I was going to kill. It didn't work out. Turns out she's completely insane. And people say I'm the crazy one." He snorted a self-deprecating laugh which Jane did not return.

"How does she want to help you?"

"No idea. Not really keen on sticking around to find out, either. Can you get free of your restraints?"

Jane pulled up and to the side, trying to find a weakness, but the leather cuffs were tough and thick and she still felt weak. "I can't get through. What about you?"

"No."

Jane expelled a breath. "Well, you can't give into her, John. H.G. will figure out we're in trouble and come find us. We just need to hold on a little longer."

John didn't look too impressed with her confidence in his former friend. "Yes, well forgive me if I don't want to wait around."

"It doesn't look as though you have much choice," she snapped. Her nerves were frayed and combined with the pain, fear was making her jumpy. She was lost and confused and afraid. "Why does Dr. Monroe even think I'm leverage? Does she not know that H.G. and I are trying to stop you and take you back?"

He didn't even look at her. "Honestly, Jane, I couldn't begin to fathom what is going on in that woman's mind right now and, frankly, I don't care. We need to escape. Look for a weakness, anything that will help us get out of here."

Jane's stamina was depleted or else she would've pressed the matter. The cuffs that bound her limbs were tight and secure. No amount of ripping or jerking accomplished anything. She looked over after her arms were sore and bloody to find John apparently asleep. "Are you serious right now? How can you be sleeping?"

Without moving a muscle other than his mouth, he answered, "I'm not. I'm thinking."

"Oh. About what?" Instead of answering this time, he shushed her. Affronted, she opened her mouth to fire some sort of remark, but Dr. Monroe entered the lab just then. John still didn't open his eyes or give any indication that he cared about her presence at all.

The redhead smiled sharply. "Have it all sorted out now?"

"Not in the slightest," Jane said, giving a false smile back. "He doesn't want or need your kind of help."

Brook's eyes sharpened on her now, a predatory sort of gleam entering them. "How brave of you to champion him, Miss Walker. I wonder if you would continue to do so if it were you under his knife."

"I didn't say he doesn't need help. I said he doesn't need your kind. You're insane."

Brooke didn't look fazed by the insult. "Hardly. What I do helps mankind. If that's insanity, then so be it." She looked behind her and snapped her fingers. "Kenneth, bring it out."

Jane's heart rate increased until she thought it would pound out of her chest. Not again. Not the electrodes, she silently begged. Darting a look, John still hadn't moved or opened his eyes. She was on her own. Of course, she was. He owed her nothing and cared not one whit about her or her safety. Still, she couldn't help a small stab of disappointment.

She swallowed hard as Kenneth opened the doors and slid inside. Unlike his previous visit, he carried only a syringe this time. "What is that?"

Brooke smirked. "Oh, just a little of this, a little of that. Some hallucinogenic compounds, a bit of hemlock. It'll hurt nice and slow. Hear that, John?" she called out, cocking her head to look past Jane. "You'll have a nice long while to sit here and watch Jane slowly die. For your sake, I hope you don't enjoy too much. After all, I do still need your cooperation."

Kenneth stuck the needle into her leg and pumped the yellowish liquid into her body. It hurt badly and she hissed in pain. "Please," she begged the man standing over her. "You don't have to do this."

He didn't look moved. "That's what they all say. Of course, I don't _have_ to." The 'I want to' part was left unspoken.

When they were alone, Jane looked at John. He inhaled deeply through his nose and then opened his eyes. Flexing his muscles, he strained again against the leather cuffs to no avail. A thought had entered his mind as he contemplated their situation earlier and he wasn't entirely sure what to do about it. The fact that he wasn't sure left him unsettled. More than unsettled really.

The first spasms of pain drew his attention to Jane. Her pale face was beaded with sweat. Whatever concoction Brooke's lackey had given her was already acting out its horrific duties and from the looks of it, it wasn't pleasant. He suspected the worst was yet to come, but letting her die? No. That was something he instinctively knew Brooke wouldn't let happen. Oh, Jane would come close to death, but letting her actually die? He snorted. Whatever hold the bitch thought Jane had over him would be too valuable to relinquish just yet.

"Why do you constantly defend me?" He was truly curious, but the doctor in him knew that keeping her mind off the pain and getting her talk might buy her some time while he decided what to do.

Jane's eyes, squeezed shut in pain, suddenly opened to him. "I don't. She's a monster."

"So am I," he said matter-of-factly. "You should be begging me to give in to her and yet you don't. Why?"

"Would it matter?" she asked, hissing again in pain. Her stomach felt like an animal was trying to claw its way out of her.

He sidestepped the question. "It's human nature to beg when your life is danger, whether it matters or not."

"And you would know," she murmured.

He agreed.

"Do me a favor, John?"

The way she said his name caught his attention. Her tone was soft. He swallowed hard.

"If the pain gets to be too bad and I do beg you to give in … don't listen." Her whole body tensed in agony and she shut her eyes. Bile swam up her throat until she heaved over the side of her chair.

He was caught for a moment at what she'd said. Why? Was all he wanted to ask her, but she couldn't hear him at the moment. Contrary to what he'd lead Jane to believe, he had an inkling as to why Brooke had taken Jane hostage and why she was hurting her. He was very much afraid that it had something to do with the feeling he got every time Jane screamed or moaned in pain. It was a low, burning, leaping feeling deep in his gut. It made him queasy.

Somehow Dr. Monroe had known that it would. He really wanted to pay her visit with a rather large knife.

"Jane," he said suddenly, "look at me." She'd fallen limp off to the side of her chair, the retching taking quite a bit out of her. "Look at me, Jane."

She opened her eyes toward him.

"I won't give in if you don't. Talk to me, Jane. Tell me about when you were a little girl." She slowly blinked. "What was your favorite book?"

"My … favorite book?" she whispered, confused.

"Yes, what was it? Maybe I've read it too."

She was quiet for a long moment and he feared he would have to talk louder. Then she said, "When I was ten, my favorite book was _The Wind in the Willows_."

He frowned. Must've been after his time. "Tell me, what was it about?"

"Why are you asking me… all these…"

He interrupted her. "You need to stay awake, Jane. Tell me what the book was about."

Jane swallowed and closed her eyes. Another spasm of pain racked her body. "Animals."

He tried to lean forward as best he could. "Say again?"

Her voice had roughened from the vomiting. It sounded a bit harsher than usual. "Animals. Four of them. A mole, a water rat, a toad, and a badger. They were friends."

"And?" He scrutinized her complexion and noticed a fleck of blood staining down by her hand.

"The toad is reckless… always in trouble."

"I like him already." John's eyes scanned the room behind Jane, the one that separated them from freedom. There had to be some way out.

"His three friends help him gain his freedom. Defend his home."

"That's nice of them."

"Toad… repents his former ways and they all live together, happy for the rest of their lives."

"That sounds incredibly boring. Why that book? What made it your favorite?" Still no sign of Brooke, damn her.

For a brief instant, an indulgent smile turned up her mouth. "Good friends, happy ending. What more could I want?"

"I would have thought a young girl's reading proclivities ran more toward romance and fairy tales. Not for you?"

Her eyes dragged open again. "I hated Cinderella," she murmured.

"I can't say I blame you."

"But Beauty and the Beast… that one was alright." Her voice sounded so small. Jane's head suddenly lolled to the side, eyes closed.

He felt a spike of fear and sat up straighter. "Jane? Wake up." There was no answer. She mumbled words but they made no sense. At least she was still alive. "Jane? Jane."

Nothing. He flung back, frustrated at his helplessness.

"You could end it, you know."

Instantly, his mask fell back in place.

Brooke sauntered into view. "All her suffering is because of you. Maybe I had it wrong. Maybe you like seeing her suffer."

He smoothly replied, "I'm almost tempted to give in just to shut you up. What exactly is it you want from me?"

"First off, your blood. One vial for testing."

"Fine, take it." The words came from his mouth with ease. He saw her brief look of confusion.

Brooke's eyes sharpened on him. "Just like that?"

He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "You want my blood or not?"

She stared at him for a good long moment and unfolded her arms from across her chest. "I'll send Kenneth in. One wrong move and she dies."

"Give her the antidote first and then you get my blood."

There was only a slight hesitation in her voice and then it was gone. "Fine. Kenneth can do her first and then draw your blood. Remember what I said." She walked away.

John settled back in his chair as if it were a plush armchair that he wasn't tied down to. A moment later, Kenneth walked into view. John watched him closely as he swiped a card in front of a black square device mounted on the glass wall next to do the door. It opened and he walked through.

Kenneth went straight to Jane with a syringe similar to the one he'd used on her before. This one however was filled with clear liquid and injected into her neck. The man stepped back and then put away the empty syringe onto a cart next to Jane's chair. Next. he moved the cart over to John.

"How do you know it worked?" John asked.

"I just do. Sit still." Kenneth's voice was bland and neutral.

John did as he was asked, but smiled up at the man. "Are you sleeping with her too?"

Kenneth stopped what he was doing fully and looked up at John. "I beg your pardon?"

"You _should_ beg." John's eyes darkened. "You should beg for your life because when I get out of this chair, and I will one way or another, you're the first person I'm going to kill. I'll gut you like the pig you are and leave you to die in your own entrails. Then I'll find your employer and do the same to her."

Kenneth blinked. A disbelieving smile curved his lips and he shifted his weight to one side. "Really? You're threatening me? I thought you only picked on vulnerable women and other easy prey."

"I see no difference before me," John returned easily.

Kenneth's face twitched in irritation and then without warning he snapped a tourniquet around John's upper arm and, not very gently, drew the blood his employer wanted. Before he left though he sneered down at the other man. "You have no idea what she's capable of, do you? You think you do, but you don't. I sorta feel sorry for you." He gave a half-laugh and then departed leaving John to think in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**SO… I originally wrote this all out immediately after posting the second chapter. THEN I realized that there were more episodes out there. The remaining unaired 7 in fact. I watched them all today on CW Seed. I felt like I had to see the rest of the story before I posted this because 1) I was dissatisfied with it at first and 2) I might want to change it based on whatever was in those episodes.**

 **Well, I ended up watching and writing and rewriting and didn't like any of it so I'm keeping this chapter the way it is. Let me just say that there was a lot of WASTED potential in those episodes but a lot of good stuff too. I hope everyone who loved this show watches them.**

 **Well, still not totally satisfied with John's character in this chapter but oh well. Enjoy and thanks to everyone who's read this and waited patiently for an update!**

Bloody Hell. Jane still had not awakened even though it had been hours. Only the slight pulse at her neck let him know she was still alive.

"Jane," he said aloud in a normal tone. Nothing from her. "Jane," he tried again, this time louder. Her brow creased and she moved in her sleep. "Wake up."

"John?" It came out as a whisper but it was something.

"I'm here."

She moaned and rolled her head to face him, eyes opening slowly. "What happened?" 

"You fell unconscious. That wench's lackey came in and gave you the antidote to whatever concoction was in your system. I'm guessing you have a rather spectacular headache though."

"You guessed right," she groaned, shifting more in the chair she was strapped down in. "Ugh, I need to pee."

His eyebrows shot straight up. That was unexpected.

With more force than he'd thought she could muster right now, she yelled, "Hey! Did you hear that? I need to pee."

A few moments later, Kenneth from earlier appeared through a door across the lab. He looked nonplussed. "Shut up or you'll get some more of what I gave you before."

"Sure, as long as you let me go to the bathroom first. Then, I'll be as quiet as a mouse. I promise." Her voice was breathy from the effort of speaking after her ordeal.

Kenneth moved toward her menacingly. "You're a big girl. You can hold it."

"It's ok, Kenneth. Unlock her cuffs. I'll take her." Brook had appeared behind him and stood with a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be fine."

Very grudgingly, Ken walked over and unlocked the door to their cell. He began unbuckling the restraints around her wrists and ankles. He grabbed her and hauled her to her feet, pushing her toward Brooke.

John had watched all this in silence, making careful observations of everyone in the room. He didn't miss the way Kenneth's eyes flickered down to Brooke's hand on his shoulder. Interesting. He also noticed how Brooke only looked at Jane for a moment and then gave John all her attention. She really had a thing for him, didn't she? He smirked. It would be flattering if she were not so pathetic. He could never be interested in the real her. She was too much like him and he didn't like that.

But he could fake it with the best of them. After all, he'd been lying to everyone his entire life, it felt like. What was one more time?

Deliberately, he let his eyes narrow at her hand on Kenneth's shoulder and then he looked away with a slight scowl. He knew she saw it and knew she'd wonder what it meant. For now, she took Jane by the arm and led her away out of the room and presumably to relieve herself.

That left Kenneth.

"She's good in the sack, huh?" he announced casually.

Kenneth scowled at him. "What?"

John jerked his head toward where Brooke had just exited. "Brooke. She's good in bed, right? I mean, I see the way you look at her. I just assumed-"

"Yeah, well don't," Kenneth snapped. "It's not like that. She's just my boss."

"For now, maybe. But don't you want more?" 

"You should worry less about my love life and more about what the good doctor is going to do to your girlfriend."

John pursed his mouth. "My girlfriend? You mean, Jane?"

Kenneth rolled his eyes. "Yeah, pretend I don't know what I'm talking about."

"You think I'm in love with Jane? You're mistaking me, I believe, for someone a lot shorter and far more idealistic. She's HG's woman, not mine, you idiot."

Kenneth's smile widened now. "Yeah, I mean I get why she wouldn't want to be with you. Doesn't want to die in her own guts, I get it."

"But you do? Want to die in your own guts, I mean?"

Kenneth laughed. "Dude, get it through your head-you're never getting out of here. Not unless Dr. Monroe wants it. And that girl?" He thumbed the air toward the exit. "By the time Monroe gets through with her, she's going to hate the day she ever set eyes on you. Because every time you screw up, she's getting punished." Kenneth's eyes gleamed. "And Brooke can think up a million ways to make her scream."

John unwillingly swallowed hard at that mental picture. "She's not the only one here with an imagination. When I get out of these shackles, you're the second person I'm going to kill."

"Now, now," another voice clucked.

Dammit all, it was Brooke. He glared at her slim figure, holding Jane by the arm outside of their room. She unlocked the door. "Threats will get you nowhere, John."

Jane was lead back to her chair and he resisted the urge to follow her with his eyes. Instead, he stared right back at Brooke. For a few long seconds she was quiet.

Then- "Leave one undone," she ordered Kenneth.

"Boss?"

"You heard me. Leave one of her restraints undone. It's time we let them play." She smirked at John and then gave a nonplussed look to Jane before walking away.

Kenneth muttered something under his breath, but reluctantly followed orders. "Try anything and it'll hurt for you," he warned, pulling the strap on her left arm extra hard, but leaving the right alone. Then he too left the room.

Jane wasted no time in freeing herself and then coming to him. John watched her silently as she knelt down by his feet and worked his restraints free. She moved to his hands and undid those as well. He rubbed the skin ruefully and then stood up, stretching his sore muscles.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He looked at her in surprise. "Of course. _You_ were the one who got a veinful of God knows what."

"I know." She touched her head lightly. "I just don't remember much after that. I didn't know if they hurt you too."

John felt a painful tightening in his chest at her words. He wished he could say that this was the first time, but he couldn't lie. At least, not to himself. He _liked_ her concern for him. Bloody hell. He turned away and looked over their surroundings. He could see more now than before in the chair. "I can take a lot of pain, Jane. You don't need to worry about me. Think of nicer things. I imagine that very soon, if not now, HG is running around working himself into a tizzy over not being able to find you."

"You too," she said quietly. "Your his best friend. Whatever you've done, whatever you've said, he's never going to _not_ want to save you."

He turned to stare at her. "Well he should. It'll be the death of him."

She shook her head at his words and walked over to a corner to sit down on the floor. He used that opportunity to check every inch of their see-through cell for any weaknesses, anything that could be used against their captors, anything to escape. There was nothing. Frustrated, he went and sat down a few feet away from her. There was nothing else to do at the moment.

"You know her."

He was startled at the sudden statement and looked over at Jane. "I beg your pardon?"

"That woman, you know her. How? Why is she doing this? Who is she?"

John sighed and pushed his head back against the wall. "She's a nobody."

Jane scowled at him. "Well, she's doing a pretty good imitation of being a _somebody_ , John. Did you sleep with her or something?"

He really didn't want to go into all that right now, and especially not to her. Instead, he smiled and glanced over. "Why? Are you jealous?"

Jane flushed. "What? No, of course not. I just want to know why this is happening. Almost dying is no picnic."

"Sorry. I'm a gentleman. I don't kiss and tell." He closed his eyes and tried to think of what to do next.

"So you did sleep with her. How could you? I mean, she's crazy." The disgust was evident in her voice and John found himself wanting to defend the situation.

"Well, it wasn't like she led with that part, you know? Besides, aren't all women a little crazy?" He grinned at her scowl and then closed his eyes again.

She was only quiet for a little while before she spoke again. "What will happen to you if you were to go back to your own time? I mean, would there be a trial?"

He opened his eyes again. What the hell was she asking him these questions for? What did it matter? "How should I know? I suppose there'd be some sort of farce of the justice system played out for everyone to see. Then they'd lock me up and throw away the key," he mused. He glanced at her. "1893 isn't as forgiving as 2017, Jane. More than likely, if I go back to 1893 I'll be dead within the year. It's the hangman's noose for me. Will you be sad?"

Jane swallowed. "Maybe HG can do something, speak for you."

He laughed harshly. "Of course he'll want to speak for me, Jane. He's a sentimental fool. Unfortunately for me, the British government is not."

Jane looked down at the floor and he thought he saw a hint of remorse in her eyes. Or was that guilt? A rush of wickedness coursed through him and leaned toward her. "You never answered my question though, Jane." 

She looked up questioningly.

"Will you be sad when I'm gone?"

"Of course I'll be sad." The sarcasm was strong. "I just love how you try and kill me and everyone around me all the time. I'll really miss that."

He was undeterred and moved even closer to her leaning in on the floor on his hands. His voice was low. "You know what I think? I think you _will_ miss me. Admit it. A part of you loves this-me, HG, the fun we've had. You don't want to go back to your boring life of a museum curator." He moved until he was mere inches from her face. Her eyes were wide with fear and- something else. He smiled, almost not believing she was letting him this close.

"I'll miss HG," she started.

He interrupted. "HG can sod off. If cared for you at all he wouldn't leave you behind. He wouldn't leave at all." His hand lifted to trace the curve of her cheek, ever so gently. She pressed against the wall as if to get away from him, but he didn't miss the way her chest rose and fell rapidly as he touched her.

"You don't understand," she whispered.

His eyes raked over her face and he leaned in a fraction. "So make me." Her scent was intoxicating and he breathed it in. Breathed her in. His heart pounded at their closeness. Her dark brown eyes seemed to swallow him up, sucking him in closer and closer until he thought he would lose himself. "Make me understand, Jane."

Why was she letting him do this? Was Brooke correct in her assumptions? Was there something between them?

"There are things greater than one person's wants, John." Her voice was weak and small.

He groaned. "I love it when you say my name."

"John…"

His blood raced hot through his veins, coursing through his body, rushing low and fast. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, feeling it tremble and wanting more. He lowered his dark head to hers, everything but need and want receding to the recesses of his mind.

"... don't."

He barely registered her faint plea. His hands tightened around her upper arms, pulling her up and close to him, flush against his well-muscled chest. Her soft curves the perfect compliment to his hard planes.

"Please, John, stop," she whispered. "Please."

Stop? Why? Why should he? It felt so good to be doing what he'd obviously wanted to do for some time now. Sweet innocent little Jane. Always looking at him with reproach. Always somehow keeping his monster at bay.

His monster…

He could feel the darkness curling up and around inside him. It didn't care how sweet and innocent Jane was. It only wanted to see her face contorted in pleasure and agony as he wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed… No!

His mouth hovered over hers, but he paused. Flashes of Jane terrified and choking on her last breath ran through his mind. Underneath him, naked and flushed, begging him to stop. He couldn't deny that a part of him grew even harder at the thought.

In disgust, he ripped himself away and bent over on his knees, pushing her not to gently back to the floor. He held perfectly still and breathed in and out. In and out. Until the darkness receded and the monster was at bay once more.

Expelling a breath, he crawled back to his spot against the wall and closed his eyes, not daring to look at Jane. Not trusting himself. "Quit asking questions."

For once since he'd met her, she obeyed him.


	4. Chapter 4

**So I had a plot idea for this story that now won't go away. Starting with this chapter I'm going to begin to move things in that direction. Hopefully, it will be a nice surprise and not a sucky one. Lol.**

 **Also, thanks to everyone who's reviewed/favorited/alerted this story!**

 **Alright enjoy :)**

Jane's sleep was disturbing. Between dreams of kissing John (and loving it) and being chased by a monster that looked a lot like Brooke, she didn't get much. At some point, she hit her hand on the wall.

 _Jane. Wake up._

Something warm crept over her upper body and she hadn't known how cold she was before. Her arms wrapped around it, holding it close, and she finally drifted off.

What in the bloody hell was he doing? John glanced down at Jane, now wrapped around his torso, in disgust. If it was possible, he would've slithered out of his skin and away from her touch. It made his skin crawl. All he'd been trying to do was make her be quiet, but she'd latched onto him and he hadn't known what to do. But now, it was too much. Extricating himself from her without waking her up would be difficult, but could be done.

Suddenly, he stopped, a wide grin spreading over his face. What would Jane do if she could see herself now? Could he last until morning?

Making a decision, he shifted his body so that she was much closer to him and put his arm around her shoulders. Her face lay on his chest, right under his collarbone. Right over his heart.

He stayed up most of the night, too awake to sleep, but at some point he must have drifted off because the next thing he knew an all-too-familiar voice rang in his ears.

"Isn't this cozy."

John's eyes popped open. Brooke stood on the other side of the wall, staring down at him and Jane. He made no move to put Jane away from him. "Jealous?"

Brooke smiled coldly. "Maybe a little. After all, _we_ slept together and you couldn't even handle the smallest touch from me. Jane doesn't even like you and you're wound up in her like a snake."

John chuckled, feeling Jane stir beside him. "I suppose it's simply a matter of taste." He didn't mention that he really wanted to see Jane's reaction when she woke up on top of him. Let Brooke fester.

"It must be. Wake her up. I've come to take her to the bathroom." When John didn't obey, she raised an eyebrow. "Or you can explain to her why she doesn't get to go for the rest of the day. I'll send a bucket for you afterwards."

"Don't trust me?" he asked innocently, nudging Jane with his free hand.

"Absolutely not."

"Good. You shouldn't. Jane, wake up." He shook her until her eyes opened and she sat up.

"What? What happened?" She was confused. "What were you doing?"

"Just keeping you warm, love. Brooke, here would like to take you to relieve yourself. Chop, chop."

Still confused, Jane stood and with bleary eyes made her way to the door which Brooke unlocked. Brooke took her by the shoulder and then looked at John with a malicious smile. Something twisted inside his chest. A warning, perhaps?

"Actually, John, I lied. Oops."

He saw the knife too late and Jane didn't see it all. Springing to his feet, he yelled, "Brook, no!"

She stabbed Jane in the stomach and then pushed her back into the observation room, locking the door before John could get to her. "There's a first aid kit across the room. Don't worry, I tried to miss all the vital organs. If you hurry, you can save her. For now."

John stared at Brooke in shock and then crouched down beside Jane, unconscious and bleeding out. _No, no, no._ He whipped off his shirt and balled it up, pressing it against her wound to stop the blood.

"Jane, stay with me," he said, looking around for anything to save her. The first aid kit. There! He jumped up and rushed over to it, grabbing everything he could and dropping it beside Jane. Shoving up her shirt, he forced himself to retreat backwards for the time being. He was no help to Jane if he couldn't control his emotions.

Fortunately for him, controlling his emotions had never been a problem.

The first thing she noticed was the pain. Searing pain over a good chunk of the side of her body. Her throat was parched. She couldn't see well. Someone hunched over her, but it was only a shadow to her.

She blinked and tried to lift her hand. She didn't know if she succeeded or not. Someone familiar came into focus. _John_. Their eyes briefly met and he looked angry. Was he the one hurting her?

"You're going to be fine," his voice distantly told her.

Was he talking to her?

She passed out once more.

John worked methodically, sewing up her wound with neat, precise stitches that wouldn't leave too horrible a scar, he hoped. It had taken hours to find and repair the damage to her large intestine (which he'd barely been able to do without a clamp), clean out the wound, and stop the bleeding. Thankfully, inside the first aid kit there had been something called Quik-Clot. A cursory glance and common sense told him what it was used for and he'd quickly applied the contents to Jane's wound, stopping the bleeding amazingly fast.

If he'd had _this_ back in 1893…

There, all done. He sat back and wiped his brow in exhaustion. Now she just had to keep from getting an infection which since he hadn't been able to properly scrub in was highly likely.

He took her pulse and, satisfied she wouldn't die anytime soon, leaned back against the wall with her head on his lap. It didn't make his skin crawl this time.

The minutes ticked by as he tried to process everything he'd just did and felt over the last three hours. He hadn't felt anything like this in what seemed like eons.

He'd _panicked_. Been _afraid_. Terrified, even.

Distantly he remembered shouting, darkness, hiding in a cramped space. After that, hunger and desperation.

He shook himself. Those feelings hadn't been his companions in years. And they never would again. Except it seemed his body had different ideas. He _cared_ about Jane's welfare.

Which only meant one thing.

Jane had to go.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks again for all the readers and a special shoutout to Madame Magic and Illa95! You guys rock and definitely give me an extra little something-something to keep updating. :)**

 **So about the story… I don't believe I've actually articulated how much I dislike HG's character in the show. I mean, I like the actor, but HG? Not so much. The whininess and stupid expressions on his face whenever he talks to John or Jane (or anyone really) just takes me out of the moment and then I start laughing. For this story, he's simply deus ex machina of sorts. Just something in the background like a plot device. So for any HG lovers out there, I'm very sorry for how HG is going to be written in this fic. But to be honest, it might be kinda accurate.**

 **Also, I believe it's this story where the scene changes haven't been showing up when I use the * asterisk symbol so I switched back to XXXXX this one. Everything should flow smoother now.**

 **()()()()()()**

Brooke smiled at the monitor. As much as it had hurt to see John being tender toward that cow, Jane, it was worth it to see him retreating inside himself. Panicking over almost losing her. Not knowing how to handle it.

She'd decided the day before to play with them a little before disposing of Jane. Like lab rats. She wanted to see what John would do in certain situations concerning someone he cared about. It was a stabbing today. Maybe tomorrow she slip Jane some hallucinogenic drugs and tie John to a chair.

No, she'd still be too weak from blood loss and pain. Maybe next week.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her cellphone. It was Griffin. "Yes?" she answered.

"How's it going with John? Have you gotten your samples yet?"

She rolled her eyes. "I've been … distracted, but it's fine. I'm doing some more tests tonight." She glanced at the monitor again. "I have a feeling he's going to be far more cooperative."

She hung up and leaned back in her chair. A large, sick part of her really enjoyed the look on John's face right now.

He knew she was there without opening his eyes. "What do you want?"

"I want to run some tests. Kenneth here can escort you."

"I have a better idea."

"Yes, what's that?" Her voice was cool.

"Send Jane away and I'll do whatever you want." He opened his eyes and stared at her.

She gave a small smile. "I know that you'd love to protect Jane, but I'm afraid that's not an option. You know why, don't you?"

Yes, he was very afraid that he knew why. "It's not about protecting her. I just want her gone."

Brooke's forehead creased for a moment. Then she relaxed. "I know what this is. You're afraid, aren't you? That you have real feelings for her, feelings that go beyond sex and bloodlust."

He snapped. "I'm not afraid. I'm sick of her."

Brooke _tsked_ and motioned toward Kenneth. He walked over and unlocked the door, swinging it wide open. There was nothing John could do anyway, not with Jane's upper body still across his lap. He aimed a strange looking gun at John and pulled the trigger before John could protest.

His last thought was 'I hope Jane doesn't die while I'm unconscious' and then, 'Disgusting.'

The sound of a door closing penetrated the fog in Jane's brain. Her whole body felt like it had been run over by a train. She groaned and something large fell onto the floor next her.

"John?"

His own groan was her answer. She struggled to open her eyes, to make sure he was okay. He was moving to his knees, dressed only in a white sleeveless undershirt and the same pants he'd been wearing since they were taken. There was blood on his clothes and arms.

"What happened?" She tried to lift herself up but her arms wouldn't work. It felt like concrete had been poured into her.

"Oh, not much," he groaned again, rising to hover over her. "You were stabbed. I was dissected a bit. All in a day's work for that woman."

Now she remembered. Leaving the room for the bathroom, Brooke hitting her in the stomach with something, then white-hot burning pain. Then nothing. "How am I not dead?"

John lifted up her shirt, but modesty was the last thing on her mind. She hissed in pain as he gently prodded around her wound. "You seem to keep forgetting, Jane. I'm a doctor remember? And while something such as modern neurosurgery might be out of my league for the moment, I assure you, a simple stab wound is not. Now, I need to clean around your wound so it doesn't become infected."

Her eyes were closed, but she felt him leave her side. "What happened to you? Did she… hurt you?"

"Aw, Jane, you care. I'm touched. Now be quiet and lay still or you'll reopen your wound."

She didn't argue. Opening her eyes while he ministered to her, she studied his face. He looked tense and irritated. But his hands were warm and surprisingly gentle. She didn't know if that word had ever been applied to him before, but at the moment it was apt.

"Thank you, John." Her voice was a whisper.

He froze when she managed to lift her hand to his arm. It fell away as quickly as she'd lifted it, but it was enough to ennerve him.

"You saved my life." She closed her eyes against a wave a nausea. Darkness was beginning to tinge the corners of her vision. "No matter what she says, she's wrong. There's good in you. You're not just … a killer. Don't…" Her body went limp as she passed out again.

XXXXX

John watched her for a moment. He knew she was simply unconscious, probably due to the pain of what he was doing, combined with dehydration, and he was not overly worried for the time being.

At least, not about that. No. His thoughts were now wholly preoccupied by what she'd just said to him. The way she'd touched his arm. Dammit all, he seethed, suddenly sitting back on the floor. He tossed the bottle of alcohol in the trash. She could die for all he cared.

He was going soft. That was intolerable.

 _Pick out those stitches and end it all right now_ , a dark whisper suggested. _Make a spectacular mess out of her body so that Brooke thinks twice about playing with you._

He didn't want to, not really.

 _Look at her. There is no way that you are getting out of this mess with her body in tow. She's holding you back._

That was very true. He'd already be gone if it wasn't for Jane.

 _And even if you both do manage to escape together, do you think she would actually stay with you? She'll run to HG and put all this away as a bad memory._

Possibly not.

 _She says your not just a killer, but if she had seen what you had done…_

To be fair, Jane had seen him do some pretty terrible things.

 _Hah! Nothing compared to what you are capable of._

That was true.

He stood up, shaking his head clear. He needed a moment's release from his dilemma. He needed to think about something else.

"Brooke!" he yelled, slamming a fist against the wall. "Come here now!"

It took a few minutes, but she appeared, looking annoyed. "You hollered?"

"You've got what you wanted. How long are you going to keep me here?"

Brooke looked less annoyed now. "Oh I don't know. I'm having so much fun with the two of you."

John's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I will get out of here, Brooke, and when I do I will gut you like a cat."

She pretended to look hurt.

"However, if you let me go now I will pretend none of this ever happened and we can simply part ways." He tried to keep calm and breathe through his nose.

"Oh, is that what you think will happen? Because I know you. I've studied everything about you, down to your DNA. You will never let me get away with this."

"I will," he promised, knowing that he wouldn't keep it.

"Don't worry. Very soon, HG and Vanessa will get a hit from Jane's cellphone leading them straight here." She smiled and John was confused. "Leaving the time machine unguarded."

Understanding dawned and he was much more interested now. "It won't be unguarded. Someone will be there."

"I'll deal with that person accordingly, don't you worry about that."

He laughed and shook his head. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to let me use it for a short while after you get your hands on it, would you?"

Brooke smiled coyly. "Oh, you never know, John. You never know." Her eyes strayed to Jane's form on the floor. "Do me a favor though, will you? Don't let her die just yet."

"Give me proper medical equipment and I won't."

She paused. "Alright. But nothing sharp. I'll have Ken drop some things off in a bit."

He watched her walk away, his head swimming with possibilities. The time machine would soon be much closer to his grasp than before. He smiled. Now all he had to do was decide _when_ he wanted to travel.

Sometime where finding people wasn't as easy as in 2017, he mused. But not too far back. He liked modern comforts. Maybe the sixties?

If only he had the key, things would be so much nicer, but he was used to working with what he was given.

He crouched down next to Jane and smoothed some hair away from her face. "It has to be this way. Maybe in another life things could have been different."

Then he sat down and put all thoughts of Jane out of his head. Plotting his next move wouldn't just _happen_ , he had to think.

 **So, as long as nothing gets away from me, the next chapter is when I'm going to set my plot bunny free. I'm super-excited to get it all written down. Also, my other TIme After Time fic, The Monster, needs attention as well, but it's hard to switch between my two John's at the same time. I will say that after the next couple chapters it should be easier though. ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**OMG this chapter took FOREVER! Tons of scene breaks. Ugh…**

 **So this was supposed to be one chapter but it got out of control so I had to split it. I'll be uploading the second part of this as the next chapter tomorrow.**

Brooke stepped into her lab and walked across the room to the glass wall that separated her from her prisoners. She smiled. John looked suspicious.

"I have good news. Anders sent men here to sniff out you and Jane. We got rid of them, of course, but now it's time to move on. Soon, I'll have the time machine and who knows? Maybe we can work something out."

John stared at her. "I feel as though you're about to do something I'm not going to like."

She sighed. "Oh, John, you are perceptive." Her eyes lifted to the ceiling of the observation room and his followed.

A strange white gas started pumping out into the room and he glared at her.

"What? I need you unconscious and pliable if we're going to move locations. Can't have you escaping just yet."

"I really can't wait to get my hands on you," he gritted out, coughing and falling to his knees. Then everything went black.

XXXXX

"Oh my god," Jane groaned when they both woke up. "That bitch is going to kill me, I swear."

"She's threatened to do so numerous times."

"Where are we?" She tried to sit up on her cot, which she supposed she was grateful for, but then gave up and roll onto her good side.

John didn't look at her. "I have no idea."

"Why did we move from the lab?"

"Just because we had one night of pleasure doesn't mean Brooke tells me her diabolical plans."

"Well, she must have told you something," Jane snapped, growing tired of his attitude. "I mean, she's doing all this because of you."

He looked up at her from his own cot which he sat on the edge of. "You're saying this is my fault?"

Jane closed her eyes. "No, I'm not. I'm saying that woman is obsessed with you."

"Well, you're not wrong on that account," he muttered. "What can I say? It's my charm and good looks." He chuckled and then stretched out on his cot, hands behind his head.

Jane's eyes couldn't help but trail over his flat stomach and broad chest. From her position on the cot, she could see the space of tan skin between his shirt and pants. Her face grew hot as she recognized sparse dark hair trailing down exactly where she knew it would go.

She abruptly turned onto her back, sending a slice of pain through her lower abdomen. She hissed.

"I have something for you," John said.

Her face grew even hotter.

He got up from his place on the cot and kneeled down next to her. Withdrawing a bottle from his pocket, he handed it to her. It was unmarked.

"Hydrocodone. I'm told it's a pain reliever."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "How did you get this?"

He shrugged. "Brooke. She must have felt sorry you."

Jane seriously doubted that. Did he-?

"Let me look over your wound. While you were unconscious, I used some of what Brooke gave me to make sure it wouldn't get infected, but this place isn't exactly sanitary." He tried not to touch anything except her shirt which she allowed him to gingerly pull up at one corner.

His finger grazed the side of her ribs and she sucked in a breath. His eyes darted to hers.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Um… yeah," she breathed, unwilling to tell him the truth. "Sorry."

His eyes narrowed. Then he turned his attention back to her stitches. "It looks alright. Not infected." He lowered her shirted and turned to go, but she put her hand out to stop him.

His head bent to look at where she was touching him.

"I know what you did. I remember."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You somehow got Brooke to give me medicine, didn't you? I remember waking up and you were next to me, in pain. She'd done something to you and now you have painkillers for me. I'm not stupid."

He leaned back on his heels and looked at her. "For your information, she's the one who told me to keep you alive. I simply told her what I needed to do that. Painkillers were a bonus."

Jane's brow furrowed. "Why would she stab me and then want you to help me?"

John glared at the only exit. "She's playing with us. Wants to see how I'll react in different situations. Wants to see if I'll let you die or help you."

Jane tightened her grip. "Why didn't you let me die?" Her voice was quiet.

John turned his back, not completely surprised at her question. He didn't really have a solid answer for her. "I am a _doctor_."

"I remember other things too," she added. "You kissed me. Why?"

Dammit all, he inwardly groaned. He was hoping with all the blood loss she'd have forgotten all about that. "I'm a _man_. You were there. Need there be any more to it?"

Jane snorted. "Okay, John, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Why do you care?"

"It's _my_ mouth you were kissing. _And_ I have a boyfriend!"

A slow smirk spread over his face and he angled his body toward her a little bit more. "As I recall, you enjoyed the kiss as much as I did. You didn't _act_ like you had a _boyfriend_."

She flushed. Suddenly, he took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing them softly against her skin.

Jane sucked in a breath. "What are you doing?"

His eyes were visible over her hand and they looked as though he was greatly enjoying what he was doing. "What do you mean?"

"Give me my hand back."

"You put your hand on me first."

She tried to withdraw from his grasp but he held fast. "John-"

"Jane," he mimicked, turning her hand over and trailing his lips across her wrist.

Wow, he was good at this, she thought. "You're hurting my stomach. Get away."

"I am not. Your just being a coward. Admit it, you want me."

She glared at him. "Who's always kissing who here? Maybe it's you who wants me."

Oh, he should really put her hand down and leave her alone. She wasn't that far from the truth. But seeing the look in her eyes when his mouth was on her skin... "Oh Jane, are you blushing?"

Her free hand went to her cheek. Was she? "No, I'm just dizzy. I haven't eaten or drank anything in forever."

"So you don't like it when I do this?" he asked innocently, tracing small circles over the back of her arm.

"No. Let go." This time when she pulled her hand away he let it go with a chuckle. "I hate you."

He pretended to look wounded. "I know you think about me when I'm not around."

"Be-because," she spluttered, "I'm always trying to keep you from killing someone, or worrying that you are, or wondering how to catch you-"

He suddenly swung down low to her face. She could feel his breath on her cheek. Wait a minute. Had he been allowed to brush his teeth while she was knocked out?

"If you want to catch me I'd be more than happy to oblige," he whispered, his eyes traveling over her nose and cheekbones to settle on her lips. They were fixated. He bent his head down and she panicked.

She turned her face away. "Stop it."

She could feel his breath on the side of her neck and rather than repulse her, it had the opposite effect. God, she had to get away from him. Back to HG. Where was he?!

Jon straightened and climbed to his feet. "Alright, I'll leave you alone but only because you're ill." He said it in a light tone, as if he'd been simply teasing her all along.

"I'd appreciate that," she said hoarsely and turned away from him to stare at the wall.

XXXXX

So the room she'd thought they'd been in at first, turned out to be a basement. A dirty musty old basement but one with running water and something akin to a showerhead protruded from the ceiling at one corner. Almost like a wash station in a lab.

She quit speaking to John after he almost kissed her for the second time. It was better that way. She was with HG and John was … John. A serial killer. A psychopath.

One who saved your life, a voice inside her said.

She slapped that voice away and concentrated on her task-trying to make a makeshift shower curtain. She didn't trust John to be a gentleman. The trouble with all this was that there was a lot of bending over and her wound was really starting to kill her.

At least they fed us, she reasoned.

"You know, only a woman would go through all this effort to bathe."

She gritted her teeth and ignored him, clutching her side as she bent down to pick up an old dirty towel. That could be useful later. Maybe she could hang it over something in order to-

"I mean, there's a sink right there. Have you never heard of a sponge bath?"

"If I could trust you not to peek I'd already be done." She tossed the towel up onto an empty crate and exhaled slowly.

"I'm hurt. You really think that low of me?"

"I think you like to get under my skin and seeing me naked is something you'd love to lord over HG. I'm not taking any chances."

He chuckled. "You're not wong. I would love to see his face when I tell him about our-how does it go nowadays?-oh yes, makeout session."

She paled. "You wouldn't."

"I would."

"I can't deal with you right now. Go away," she snapped, moving past him toward another box. If she couldn't make a curtain she could at least shield herself with boxes, even just on side. She didn't really think he'd make a huge effort to see her naked, but she wasn't taking any chances either.

"Jane, you're going to undo all the work I did saving your ungrateful life. Give me that." He snatched the box out of her hand and started stacking them up in a sort of semi-circle around the shower head.

She let him help her, after all she assumed he'd benefit from it as well eventually. When he was finished, he straightened with a grunt and stretched his arms.

"Alright well I'm going to give this a go." He turned on the shower head and tried to make the water as warm as possible. Then he slowly started stripping his shirt off.

"What are you doing?" she asked nervously.

He turned, balling his shirt up and tossing it on the floor. She gulped at his bare chest. "What does it look like I'm doing?" One very dirty sock came off and then the other. The he started on his pants. He pulled them down over his knees and looked up at her, smiling. "Are you going to watch?"

Before she could fully turn away, he was standing only in boxers looking extremely… She swung around to face the wall. "I was doing all of that for me. So _I_ could take a shower."

"Well, I'm testing it out for you."

His boxer shorts flew past her and hit the wall. Oh my god, he's naked, she realized. She inched sideways until she was sure she wouldn't see anything and the turned to snap at him.

"You know, I can't believe you-"

She stopped abruptly.

The boxes and crates didn't come quite high enough to cover all of him. He really was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen in real life. Water sluiced over his head and down his back, rivulets running trails to her imagination. He had a perfect ass. It was absolutely perfect. Well muscled, smooth. She could imagine sinking her nails into it while he was between her legs thrusting…

He half-turned when she stopped speaking suddenly, ready to fire her up with some jest or perhaps make her blush at the sight of his nudity, but the look on her face made his words die in his throat.

She had an expression of pure, unadulterated lust on her face. It was brief, because as soon as she noticed him looking at her she turned to leave, but it was there.

"Jane." He said her name so simply, but he couldn't quite mask the yearning in his voice. There. It was out in the air now.

She paused for only a moment and all he wanted right then was for her to turn around and come to him. He wanted to _be_ with her, possess her, all of her. Make her always look at him like that, instead of how she usually looked at him.

But she walked away instead, as he'd known she would.


	7. Chapter 7

**Alright, here's the next part...**

It had only been a day since they'd awakened in their new surroundings and so much had changed between them. Of course, neither spoke of what happened, but they both felt the tension.

It doesn't matter, John told himself, sneaking a glance at her across the room. Soon I'll have the time machine and this will all be a distant memory. _Jane_ won't matter anymore.

He exhaled. "This is intolerable," he muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one stuck here. God, why doesn't she just kill us already." Jane suddenly threw her food tray at the floor and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Temper, temper." John tsked.

"Bite me," she snapped.

"I'd love to." He saw her mentally try and control herself and chuckled.

"Is this funny to you?"

"Sort of."

This time she threw something at _him_. He barely missed it.

"I see that knife wound is healing nicely."

"What is her endgame?" Jane seethed, throwing her arms up. "I mean, if I'm a hostage shouldn't there be some sort of ransom? I know why she wants you, but…"

"Jane, give it up," he said tiredly. "You're never going to understand that woman's motivations so just accept your fate and move on."

"Oh that's great. Yeah, just give up. Great advice. You're not the one being stabbed and gassed and poisoned."

John clapped his hands together. "Let's play a game."

She rolled her eyes. "No, thanks."

"Come on. It'll be harmless."

"I'm playing some game with you."

"Why not? It'll pass the time."

Jane fell silent and pondered his suggestion. In the end, she caved. "But I get to pick the game."

"Alright."

She moved to a position where she could better see his face. "It's called Truth or Dare." Her secret was to never pick Dare.

"What are the rules?"

"I ask you Truth or Dare. If you pick Truth, you have to answer truthfully whatever question I ask you. If you pick Dare, you have to do whatever I tell you and if you can't I get to punish you."

He raised his eyebrows. "What is the punishment?"

"Hmmm, let me think. Alright, if you can't complete a Dare or don't answer the question you have to … say something nice about HG." That thought made her snicker.

He looked annoyed. "Fine, but same rules apply to you and your punishment will be to say something nice about…" He almost said Brooke, but then changed his mind at the last minute. "...me."

She looked equally annoyed. "Fine. Who goes first?"

"Ladies always."

"Truth or Dare?"

He thought for a moment. "Dare."

She'd really wanted him to answer Truth. She wanted to know more about him. "Let's see. Hold your breath for one minute. I'll count."

When it was his turn to ask, she picked Truth. He smiled. "What is your favorite color?"

"Blue. Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

She pouted a little at that. Was he always going to pick Dare? "I dare you to hop on one foot for thirty seconds."

"This game is so childish," he muttered, standing up to perform. He didn't too bad a job either. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

He looked her over appraisingly. "When I kissed you, what did you feel?"

Her heart started pounding in apprehension, but it wasn't like she hadn't expected something like this. "What did I feel? Confusion."

He frowned. "And that's all?"

"Only one question at a time. Sorry. Your turn."

"Dare."

"Coward. Fine. I dare you to stand on your head." When he just looked at her, she shrugged innocently. "If you can't do it, then I guess you'll have to take the punishment."

"Of course I can't stand on my _bloody_ head."

"Well, you know what to do."

"Fine. Compliment HG. Here it goes. HG is very … kindhearted. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. Probably not, but there you go."

"Very good."

"Truth or Dare?"

She wasn't about to let him know her real feelings on kissing him, so she did what she never did and picked, "Dare."

He smiled wickedly. "Hmmm, interesting. Someone doesn't want to answer anymore questions about our kiss."

"Get on with it."

"Alright. I dare you to … kiss me."

Of course. "I'm sorry. I'll have to take the punishment."

He made a face. "Fine. Say something nice about me."

She pretended to think long and hard until he was scowling. "Alright, alright, I'm kidding. You saved my life when you didn't have to. That was very nice of you. Now Truth or Dare?"

He paused for a moment and then surprised her. "Truth."

She had wanted to ask him about the women he murdered but something didn't seem right about that. "How did you meet HG?"

"Of course you'd want to talk about him," he muttered. "Alright, well, we met in school. Actually, we went to different schools but while we were going to school-I to become a doctor and him to … earn a degree in science-we met at a pub and started a conversation. It went from there."

"What was the conversation about?"

He looked at her and almost parroted her own rules back at her, but instead decided to answer. "I believe it was about the nature of man. HG believed that man was inherently good while I believe the opposite. Truth or Dare."

"Truth."

"Why did you feel confusion when I kissed you?"

She was still thinking about what he'd told her when she answered. "I guess because I didn't know _why_ you would be kissing me." She paused for a long moment. "And I suppose, honestly, I was also confused because… I liked it." She thought it was only fair to be honest when he'd been honest with her.

John smiled smugly and reclined back in his cot.

"Truth or Dare, John."

"I'm getting tired. I'll take Truth."

"Were you ever married?"

He snorted. "God, no." He glanced over at her. "You?"

She shook her head.

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "I wouldn't mind being married, but I never found the right guy, I guess. What about you?"

He stared up at the ceiling. "Didn't want to… have a family."

"Oh. You don't like kids?"

"Not especially."

"Is it because you're afraid?" she asked softly.

"Afraid?"

"You were so happy when you met your son and found out he was a good man. Were you afraid any children you had … wouldn't be?"

He didn't answer for a long while and then sighed. "I'm sorry Ms. Walker but that was more than one question. You'll have to follow the rules."

She gave a half laugh and let it go.

XXXXX

Rough hands grabbed her while it was still dark. "John?" she whispered sleepily.

It wasn't John. It was a mean-looking blonde man with a scar on his cheek.

"What are you doing? John, wake up!"

The man dragged her up and off the cot and hauled her toward the stairs that led up and out of the basement. She tried to fight but all she got was a smack across the face. Suddenly John was behind the man looking murderous. He withdrew a sharp piece of wood that he'd tore off one of the crates earlier and stuck him in the neck with it. Blood spurted like a fountain.

"Come on, let's go." John took her hand and led her up the stairs. The door was unlocked and they easily made it through and past another guard. As they were sneaking through the hall John saw something that caught his attention out of window. "My God, she did it. She got it."

Jane sucked in a breath. There in the middle of the yard was the time machine. "We have to get to it. Hurry."

They made it outside from the back door and then crossed the empty space between them and the machine.

"Stop right there."

Jane groaned. They'd been so close.

Brooke stood holding a gun at the both of them. "Hanover, detain Mr. Stevenson. Make sure he can't go anywhere."

Several men went at John until he was on the ground bleeding from a cut lip. Brooke gestured at Jane. "Hold her."

Jane's arms were twisted behind her back by one guy while the other held a gun at her head.

Brooke smiled. "Jane Walker. How did you know I wanted to see you right now?"

"Let us go," she warned. "How did you get this machine?"

"I took it. And now it's time to get rid of you. Do it," she ordered the guards.

Someone stuck Jane in the neck with something and she went limp. Brooke then took a piece of paper and held it to Jane's chest. Brutally, she pinned it together with a safety pin, sticking it through her flesh and then fastening it.

"Brooke!" John yelled slightly panicking at Jane being drug over to the time machine's door and then dumped in. "What are you doing with her?"

"Fire her up!" she yelled over to a girl on a computer.

The machine spun and whirled until in a blink it was gone. After awhile it reappeared. John breathed heavily, staring at where Jane used to be.

"Where did you send her?"

Brooke started actually laughing which wasn't a good sign. Finally, she stopped and turned to him. "London. 1892."

John's heart sank. That was before he'd been caught by Scotland Yard. Before Jane. Before 2017.

"What do you think 1892 John will think of Jane? By the way, I attached a little note to Jack the Ripper. Hope things don't get too messy." She chuckled and walked past him. "Take him back down to the basement."

"Brooke, you can't do this. Bring her back," he yelled as he was dragged away. "I'll kill you!"

She merely kept walking, unfazed.

 **Okay, I realized after proofreading this that some things might need to be explained. I'm going off the assumption that everyone who's into this show has seen all 12 episodes, BUT that might not be the case. So, 1) the basement in the story is the one where Vanessa Anders was kept except I added cots. 2) the girl with the computer is the one who manages to hijack the time machine before sending the 3 to the past. And 3) I can't for the life of me exactly remember all the rules of time travel for this show SO just go with the flow. :)**

 **Now I'm realizing that if you haven't seen all episodes me explaining this won't help anyways. LOL.**

 **Okay, so about the story so far, my original idea was to send them both to the past together, but then I thought why not send just Jane at first and see what happens. Brooke pinning the note to the Ripper onto Janes chest is for a reason. She set the date and place for maximum effect. I actually really liked Brooke's character on the show. The actress was great, but I'm glad to not have to write her in the story for awhile. I can just focus on Jane and John and unfortunately a little HG as well.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Be forewarned, it is very possible that there historical inaccuracies in this chapter. I did minimal research.**

 **()()()()()()()()**

1892, London

 _ **THE RIPPER STRIKES AGAIN!**_

Dr. John Stevenson snorted and tossed the paper down on the desk in front of him. He'd picked it up simply to see if the police had any leads, but as always, no.

This was not even one of mine, he thought, glancing at the dead woman's name. Olive Johnson.

The police and newspapermen tended to brand any murder victim in the slums as one of the Ripper's when in fact, the slums were rife with murder. It was one of the reasons he hunted in those parts of the city. Easy prey.

 _Jack the Ripper._

He smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Dr. Stevenson!" A young nurse stood breathless in the doorway of his office. Her face was red.

"Yes?"

"There's a woman here, sir. She's … it's strange, really, but- you just have to see this. Come!"

He frowned a bit but rose to follow her. A woman? What woman?

Up ahead in the general inpatient section, a crowd gathered around someone on a bed. "Everyone step aside." They parted, whispering to each other, and he finally saw what all the commotion was about.

A woman with medium-length dark hair and a slim build lay unconscious. The clothing she wore was the strangest he'd ever seen, but that wasn't what caught his eye.

That would be the piece of paper stuck to her chest by a metal pin. On it read _To Jack the Ripper_.

He deftly unpinned the note from her, taking care to withdraw the pin without waking her up, and flipped it over.

 _I know who you are._

That was it. Just five little words to make all the blood drain from his face and his eyes narrow at the woman.

"Nurse," he said quietly. The same girl who'd fetched him came to attention. "Take this woman to a private bed on the fourth floor. Room 7. Someone fetch me smelling salts."

Everyone jumped to do his bidding and he began walking away, back to his office to study the note and its possible implications.

"Sir, the police should be here shortly. They'll want to take a look at that note you're holding."

John looked over in annoyance. Of course someone had alerted the police. And now he must fully cooperate or bring suspicion to himself. "Send them to my office when they arrive." Then he walked away. He must get to the woman and learn what she knew, if anything, before the police did.

Outside her room, nurses hovered around, whispering. Sophie, the one from earlier, turned to see him. "Sir, we thought it best to leave her be and let the police decide what to do with her." She motioned at her own clothes and he understood.

"Send everyone away. This girl is obviously hurt and I must see what I can do to help her."

Though a little confused as to why he wouldn't need at least one nurse to do that, Sophie bobbed a curtsey and then shooed the other women along. She knew better than to cross him. He entered the room and closed the door, relaxing now that they were alone. Snapping one of the ammonia capsules in half, he held it under the woman's nose until her eyelids started fluttering open.

"John…" she whispered weakly, moving her head from side to side.

He blinked rapidly. Had she said his name? Were they acquainted?

No, he would have remembered someone like her.

Her eyes suddenly snapped open, focusing on his face. There was confusion at first. And then fear and uncertainty. "John?"

He stared down at her. "May I ask how you know my name, miss…?"

She tried to sit up too quickly and hissed in pain, clutching at her side. He glanced down at the bottom of what appeared to be a stitched up wound. She moved her shirt to hide it.

"What is your name?"

"I-I… I-" She fell silent. "I don't remember."

She was lying. His eyes narrowed. "You do not remember anything from before you woke up here?"

She looked from side to side, as if searching for something. Finally, she looked up at him. "What year is it?"

A brief flash of surprise crossed his face. "You're in London, the year is 1892."

"1892," she repeated, taking a moment to simply stare at him. "Oh my god. Oh my god." She moved to stand but her legs were unsteady and he caught her when they buckled. A flash of something buzzed through his chest when he touched her.

Static electricity, he decided.

"May I ask why you are dressed this way?" He helped her back into bed and then watched her expression.

She looked down at herself and moaned. Her pants-yes, _pants_ -were very tight and the shirt she was wearing was little better than underwear in this day and age.

"Were you assaulted?" he suggested. He knew the area very well. It was likely.

"No. I mean … yes, I was robbed. The man took my clothes and held me … at knifepoint. I kicked him and managed to run away."

"I see," he said, sure she was lying again. He withdrew the paper he'd been holding from a picket and showed it to her. "Care to explain this?"

She snatched it and read, face paling. " _To_ _Jack the Ripper. I know who you are._ " She very slowly raised her head to look at him.

No, he frowned, she wasn't looking at him, but somewhere past him. She couldn't meet his eyes.

A sudden cold trickle slid through his chest as he realized that she did indeed know him. Or _Jack_. But maybe both and that he couldn't stand for. He moved a step forward, ready to wrap his hands around her throat before she could even get a scream out.

"Dr. John Stevenson, correct?" she asked smoothly, this time actually looking at him. When he didn't answer, she continued. "My cousin has told me so much about you. It's how I knew to come here."

John blinked. "How do you mean?"

"My cousin, HG Wells. I believe the two of you are friends."

This woman was related to HG? "Your memory has suddenly returned," he answered suspiciously.

She nodded and smiled. "Yes, thank goodness. I guess I just needed … time."

"Time," he echoed, dragging a small stool over to her bedside. He didn't miss the way she stiffened at his closeness. Good. The predator in him bared its teeth. "Now I believe it's time you told me who you are and where you come from? By your accent, I believe… America?"

She nodded. "I-I am from New York."

Recognition entered his eyes. "I attended a conference there a few years ago."

"My grandfather on my mother's side is the first cousin of HG's uncle on his mother's side… It's all sort of twisted but I came to London to stay with HG and I sort of ran into trouble."

"You're traveling alone?"

"Yes."

"This isn't the sort of area a young lady like yourself should be cavorting around alone." He stared at her clothing. "All sorts of things might happen."

The woman shivered. "Well, thank you for helping me, Dr. Stevenson, but I really must be on my way."

He chuckled. "I'm afraid I can't let you out of my sight, Miss…?"

She swallowed. "Jane. Walker."

He looked pleased. "Miss Walker, I'm afraid the police are taking the Ripper case very seriously." He sneered a bit at that. "They will be here any second to question you."

She bit her lip in consternation. "Can't you… do something? I don't know anything. I don't know how that letter got anywhere near me-"

"It was pinned to your chest, Miss Walker," he interrupted, motioning at the small bruise below her collarbone that had been steadily forming during their conversation. " _Through_ your chest to be more exact."

She rubbed the spot and then winced. "Well, even so, I don't know anything that the police would be interested in. I really should go."

He didn't want her speaking to the police anymore that she did. "I suppose I _could_ tell them that due to trauma your memories have been repressed for a short while. It would give you time to … gather your thoughts."

She appeared to be relieved. "Thank you, doctor."

John thought for a moment and then stood up and went to the door. Opening it, he searched the corridor for anyone. "You," he called out to young boy loitering near a cart. "Come here."

The boy walked to quickly to do his bidding. "Yes, sir?"

John took out a piece of paper from his pocket and scribbled an address on it with a small pencil. Then he also withdrew one small coin. "Go here and tell the man who lives there to come at once to London Hospital. Tell him I sent you. Go."

The boy ran off and John resumed his seat next to Jane's bed. This woman wasn't going anywhere without his knowledge. If she really was HG's cousin, then he had to be careful. If she was lying, well… then _she_ had to be careful.

He smiled at her and noticed that her's was weak. She was afraid of him, though trying her best to hide it. Why should she be afraid of someone she'd never met?

XXXXX

Jane had no idea what to do or what to say or what not to say. She was still so disoriented from whatever Brooke had given her that she'd told John her real name. The timeline was trouble. What was Brooke _thinking_?

Just by his seeing her face the timeline was messing up. John wasn't supposed to meet her for another year, over a hundred years in the future. And this was not the same John as the one she'd just left in 2017. This John was cold and calculating.

Not that her John hadn't been, she reasoned, but there was a difference. Towards the end, there'd been warmth in his eyes. She hadn't realized it until now, looking at his past self.

"You can go," she said suddenly. "I'm sure the Chief of Surgery is a very demanding job."

"Today, I'm all yours." His eyes glinted. "Tell me, why wasn't HG able to meet you? Why were you out and about all alone?"

She took a breath. "Well… he doesn't exactly know I'm here. I wanted to surprise him."

He looked at her in disbelief. She couldn't blame him, after all, that sounded like a weak lie even to her ears.

She closed her eyes and put a hand to her head. "Oh, wow, I feel dizzy. I think I need to lie down." She laid her head back on quite possibly the worst pillow she'd ever had and tried to look as ill as possible. "Please, I need some water."

Should she even be drinking the water here?

John's voice was tight. "Of course. I'll be right back."

When he left the room, she relaxed and dropped her hand. Should she make a run for it? Where would she go? She had no money, no decent clothes, and no idea how to find her way back to 2017.

Her only hope was HG.

She stood up slowly from the bed and made her way to the window. Everything was so strange. There were no cars, no flashing lights, no modern anything. She was out of her element and had had no time to prepare and no way back.

Someone in the future was looking for her. Surely HG would figure it out and show up at any moment.

What was John doing right now? she wondered. Had he known what Brooke was going to do? Did he approve?

A heaviness in her chest at that thought made her close her eyes. Surely their time together had meant something to him. He'd help find a way to save her, right?

"Here's your water and I do believe the police are here to speak to you," John announced behind her.

Jane turned, panicking. "You'll help me, right?"

He gave a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Of course. I've had a nurse bring you some more suitable attire." He gestured and a girl younger than her walked in and set down a bundle.

"Will you be needing help, miss?" she asked politely.

Jane eyed the bundle of clothing and saw a corset sticking out. "I don't think so. Thank you."

John gave a small bow. "I'll be just outside. Make haste."

For the first time since meeting him, she grew annoyed. "Yes, I'll try if you'll be so kind as to leave."

His eyes narrowed but he nodded and left.

Despite her annoyance, she did try and make haste, but dressing in this time wasn't as smooth as dressing in the future. There were a lot of different things to put on and you had to do it in a certain order. Where did they even find these clothes anyways? For one awful moment, she'd thought she'd noticed dried blood on the corner of the blouse. Were these dead people's clothes?

She made it through to the end somehow, buttoning up the blouse all the way to her neck. She'd had to keep her modern boots, however, but the skirt was so long no one would see.

Walking to the door, she opened it, hoping John would be gone, but he was right there standing guard.

He was must be afraid of what the note said, she realized. He's not going to stop until he figures out how much I know. And there's nothing to keep him from killing me except some tenuous thread to his best friend. A best friend who's never met me before and has no reason to trust me.

John looked her over and smiled politely. "Very good, Miss Walker. If you'll come with me?" He gestured for her to step out of the room and into the hall.

"Where are we going?"

"To my office. I have informed the police that your mind is still hazy from the attack and that you should rest. They've promised to be brief." He looked at her sideways as they began to walk. "I've also sent for HG. He should arrive very soon."

She swallowed. "Good."

There were three men inside John's office. A plainclothes detective and two uniformed officers. They stood up to greet her.

"Please, Miss, have a seat. Dr. Stevenson has informed us of your unusual predicament but anything you can remember will help. What did he look like?"

"Who?"

"The Ripper."

Now she was confused. "The Ripper?"

The detective tried to be patient. "Yes, the man who gave you the note. Who stole your clothes?"

"That wasn't the Ripper. I mean, why would the Ripper pin a note to my body that was _addressed_ to the Ripper? It doesn't make sense."

The detective made a face. "Who knows what goes on in that sick bastard's head. He probably wanted to throw us off his scent. Just give us a description of the fella and we'll scour every inch of this borough looking for him."

"Oh. Ok, well I don't remember much. Just … his eyes." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "They looked like pure evil."

The detective leaned forward. "And what does pure evil look like, _exactly_? Brown? Green?"

She picked the opposite of John's. "Blue. I think they were blue."

He wrote that down.

"He was about my height and very dirty. That's all, I'm afraid."

"Alright, but one last thing. Did you catch an accent?"

She frowned. "He sounded, you know, just like the rest of you. English, probably."

"Alright, gentlemen, on behalf of my patient I really must end this now. Further questioning can cause long term trauma to the memory center of the brain which can lead to a pulmonary embolism and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

John ushered them out with the promise that they could speak to her again later. Jane couldn't help but snicker after the door shut. He looked surprised.

"I'm sorry, it's just that explanation…" She tried to stifle her giggling with a hand. The day was really starting to get to her. "Thank you."

He gave her what was maybe the first genuine sign of emotion since she'd woken up in that hospital bed. A real smile. "All nonsense, I assure you."

"I figured as much."

Then there were more voices outside the door and they both turned to look. HG came in looking very confused. "John, what is all this about?"

Jane inwardly groaned. She'd been hoping to meet up with him privately.

John, however, looked pleased, as if he was finally going to catch her in her lies. "This is Miss Jane Walker. She _claims_ to be your _cousin_."

Before HG could respond, Jane stood up quickly and rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "HG it is so good to finally meet you in person."

"Um, the pleasures all mine. I'm sorry, cousin?"

She pulled back to look at him, desperately. "Yes, you know, from America? We've been exchanging letters for years now." She tried to impart as much meaning as she could in that look and then went for something that might hit home a little harder. "You told me all about your work with time travel."

His eyes widened a fraction and he just stared at her.

"Time travel?" John asked from behind his desk.

HG kept his eyes on hers, searching for any possible answers. "Um, yes…" He must have made a decision because just then he shook himself and started speaking to his friend. "You know my interest in that sort of thing. I've written to my cousin, Jane, all about it. Nothing concrete yet I'm afraid."

John didn't care at all about anything to do with time travel. His eyes narrowed. "You're saying this woman is really your cousin?"

HG gave a not-very-convincing smile. "Yes, of course. I apologize for not recognizing you from your photograph, but you know how these things are," he told Jane who nodded vigorously.

"Don't mention it. Is it possible to take me home now? I'm so tired. I was robbed, you know. Dr. Stevenson here found me and helped me. I'm indebted to you," she said to John, who ignored her.

"HG, you've never told me you had a cousin named Jane." John was not letting this go. Something wasn't right. He was almost sure they were both lying to him.

"Oh, well, I'm sure you have a lot of cousins you've never told me about. Come John, I appreciate you trying to protect me from … strange ladies claiming to be family members, but I'm fine. Jane is in fact my cousin and I must get her home so we can speak. You'll join us at some later date so I can thank you for properly attending to her?"

HG didn't wait for a reply and began ushering Jane out of the office.

"Be careful, Miss Walker," John called out to her suddenly. She turned to look at him. "You've drawn attention to yourself and the Ripper. He might try and make your acquaintance."

She looked at him, suddenly very hard, and walked back over to his desk. Spots of color on her cheekbones told him she was angry. "If he knew what was good for him he'd stay away from me."

Their eyes collided, each holding the other's gaze for one long moment before Jane straightened up and walked out of the office. HG had no idea what was going on between the two of them, or even in general, and he made hasty last words before following her out.

 **I will say that this is not my favorite chapter but I am satisfied with it. Sort of . Just so's you knows.**


	9. Chapter 9

**So… this chapter was just not holding my interest AT ALL. I got about halfway through and then wrote the last half a few different ways. Just couldn't get it. I finally decided to change directions entirely and go a different route.**

 **This is the product of that. I like it so much better than what I had been planning on doing.**

 **Thanks again to everyone who reviews. It's an extra step that can be a pain in the butt, but they are much appreciated. Also, thanks to all the guest reviewers I can't reply to.**

"I can't tell you a lot," Jane began, taking a sip of her tea. "But I can tell you that in the future you use the time machine and it works. You travel through time."

HG sat across from her, stunned and confused. "But how do you know that?"

"I just know. You have to trust me. How far along is the machine now? Have you tested it yet?"

HG shook his head. "I'm still working on the power source."

Jane didn't know if she was saying too much, but she added, "I need to use it as soon as possible. I'm not from … here."

His eyes widened. "The past? No, let me guess, the future?"

"I can't tell you that. It could compromise the timeline."

"Of course, of course." He grinned and clapped his hands together. "This is all so exciting."

"Yes, but I need to get back to my own time." Jane bit her lip. "Unless someone comes for me, I'm stuck here until you've finished your work." She didn't tell him that it was only two years away. He couldn't know … well, anything. She'd already risked so much, just by seeing him face to face.

"Yes, yes, of course." He thought for a moment, rubbing his lower lip. "Well, this is the safest place for you to be. I will have clothes and things brought here tomorrow and we will keep the charade of you being my cousin." He suddenly blushed. "Of course, I know decorum demands-"

She interrupted him. "I know in this time men and women don't… Things aren't as … free … as they are in my time."

HG frowned at that. Then a smile spread over his face. She groaned.

"Did I just spill some secret knowledge or something?"

He shook his head but still had that grin. "No, no, I assure you."

She didn't believe him. The timeline was going to hell because of her.

XXXXX

John made sure to show up at HG's house the next night, just in time for dinner. Courtesy dictated that HG invite him to stay and dine, and that would give him the opportunity to observe both him and Jane together.

They were lying, he was sure, but to what extent, he didn't know.

Did Jane Walker know that he was Jack the Ripper?

He raised the brass knocker and let it fall three times. A few moments passed before someone opened it.

He doffed his hat. "Mrs. Nelson."

"Dr. Stevenson, I didn't know Mr. Wells was expecting you." Mrs. Nelson smiled and took his hat and coat. "He'll be delighted to see you after all you did for his unfortunate cousin. I didn't even know he had a cousin! Especially, not such pretty one from America."

Dr. Stevenson was polite and nodded his head. "Yes, I was hoping to check on my patient. Make sure all is well."

The older woman gave an unnecessary conspiratorial smile. "Let me just go and see if I can find them."

John let her go and looked around his friend's parlor in the meanwhile. The man lived the most mundane life. He didn't know how HG stood it.

"John?"

A soft voice called to him from the stairwell and he turned. Jane descended down the stairs, slowly. Probably still in pain from her injury.

"I'm sorry, I meant, Dr. Stevenson," she corrected with a small smile.

He smiled and bowed over her hand, holding it for a moment longer than necessary. There hadn't been a woman born he couldn't charm. "Miss Walker, I see HG has properly dressed you."

Her hair was styled in fashion and instead of the trousers she'd worn the day before, she now had on a long blue skirt with a plain white blouse. He had to say, although she was quite fetching in this attire, he preferred her in the trousers. They left very little to the imagination, and what he imagined was, oh, so delicious.

Jane nodded. "Yes, he was kind enough to have Mrs. Nelson make arrangements for things to be delivered. She did a good job sizing me up."

His eyes traveled down her form. "Yes, she did."

Jane took her hand back. Noticing his brazen look, he thought. "If you're looking for HG, I have no idea where he is, but you are welcome to sit." She gestured at a sofa which he took. "I'm so glad you came by today."

He raised an eyebrow. "You are?"

"Yes, I feel as though we didn't get off on the right foot."

"I beg your pardon?"

"What I mean is, I was rude to you yesterday and I wanted to apologize," she explained. "I wasn't feeling myself."

"Well, I shouldn't be surprised what with the wound you've sustained." At her expression, he gestured at her side. "I saw it in the hospital yesterday. Someone stitched you up, quite recently."

She gave a small smile. "Yes. I had an accident during my journey. There was a doctor who … was good at his job."

"You've had quite a string of bad luck," John remarked, settling back to study her. Something was off about her manner. She was practically … ingratiating. Not at all like their previous encounter. "You're not married?"

She looked startled at the question. "No."

"Strange. A woman as pretty as you must have been made many offers before."

"Not so many," she mumbled.

"I don't believe it," John scoffed, trying to gauge her reaction.

"I… There was a man, once. It didn't work out. I'm glad for it though, because I doubt I would be here enjoying the lovely English hospitality." She smiled neatly.

It had been quite a breach of etiquette for him to broach the subject of her love life and Jane didn't seem as though she knew that. She was unsettled sure, but other than that…

"I apologize for asking. I don't know what came over me." John smiled and tried to make it reach his eyes.

"It's okay," she said quickly. "What about you? There's no Mrs. Stevenson?"

"No."

"Why not?" Then her smile turned coy. "A handsome doctor like yourself must have women throwing themselves at you."

 _Touche_ , he thought. "I prefer my own company."

A clacking in the basement, up the stairs, drew their attention. A door opened and closed and then HG came around the corner and smiled at John's presence. "Mrs. Nelson told me you'd be here. Jane, thank you so much for keeping our guest entertained. Would you care to stay for dinner, John?"

John smiled. "I would love to. I thought first I would give Jane an examination and close out her case. If that's alright, of course." He looked innocently between the two.

"I really don't think that's necessary," Jane said, looking at HG.

HG opened his mouth to protest but then saw her expression and closed it. "I suppose ... the lady knows what's best."

"Actually, it's _doctor_ knows best," John said smoothly, standing up and taking his bag. "Shall I wait for you down here or will you need my assistance?"

Jane shook her head and remained seated. "I'm fine. Please don't trouble yourself."

John's eyes narrowed. He wanted to get her alone and she was being stubborn. "I have an open case that will remain open until I can examine you. I'd like to close it."

HG sensed his friend was growing insulted by Jane's hesitance. "Jane, he _is_ a doctor and you did have quite a nasty time of it yesterday. Let him make sure you're alright? Please?"

Jane sat in silence for a moment, and then capitulated. "Alright, fine."

"Excellent. I can conduct my examination in your room. HG, please send Mrs. Nelson to help Miss Walker with her clothing. I will be up presently."

Jane looked somewhat miserable as she obeyed. After she left and Mrs. Nelson went up to help her, John turned to HG. "What exactly is going on here, HG? She is no more your cousin than I am."

HG was surprised at first and then nervous. "Of course she is. Jane Walker, my cousin from America."

"You're lying." John was downright menacing. "You know how I feel about lying."

HG twisted his hands around and then threw them up in the air. "Alright, she's not my cousin. How did you know?"

"Because you don't have a cousin from America," John hissed. "What is going on?"

"All I can tell you is she is a good person and she needs my help. No more questions. I've told you enough." HG half-turned away. "You must respect my privacy in this matter, John."

XXXXX

Jane undressed down to her-well, what was considered underwear here. In actuality, it was basically another dress. A chemise, to be exact. Mrs. Nelson had to help her with all the laces and buttons of the corset, blouse, and skirt. She'd thanked her and then the old lady left.

John was suspicious of her. She'd tried earlier to get on his good side, but from the look in his eyes it had only made him more wary of her.

Dammit Brooke! She would kill her if she ever got back to her own time. Where were her friends? Did John know what had happened to her? Would he help her?

Jane paced around the room, until a polite knock sounded. She cleared her throat. "Come in."

XXXXX

John opened the door and then entered, closing it behind him. "Please have a seat."

She chose a chair. "I'm fine, really. This isn't necessary."

John ignored her and placed his bag on a small table next to the fireplace. Then he took out a stethoscope and walked over to her. A chair nearby served for a seat and he dragged it closer to his new patient. She was nervous, but cooperative when he listened to her heartbeat. "Very good," he said looking up at her with a smile. He'd deliberately chosen to sit very close. Right now, his knee was touching hers.

"Are we done?"

He shook his head. "I need to examine your wound. Make sure it's healing properly. Please lay down on the bed."

"It's fine," she protested.

"I hope so. Please, the bed." He gestured to it with a hint of impatience.

Jane stood up and slowly walked to the bed. "Have the police found any leads with the Ripper case?"

His interest sharpened. "You mean have they caught him? No."

"No, I mean have they figured out who put that note on me? What's it's all about?"

"I'm not sure. I doubt it." He had a very low opinion of the police.

"Is it true what the newspapers say? Is he as bad as all that?"

John watched her sit on the edge of the bed and then swing her feet around and up onto the thick blanket covering and lay down. She'd tried to keep her tone light and casual, but he saw through it. "Judging from the newspapers, I suppose so."

She looked at him then. "What about your opinion?"

"Mine?"

"You must have one. Who do you think is behind it all?"

John came closer, dragging the chair over by her bedside and sitting down in it. "Lift your clothing, please." She obeyed with some reluctance. "I think it's some depraved lunatic taking advantage of helpless women. That's all." He began examining around her wound, poking and prodding.

"I don't think he's a lunatic," Jane said suddenly, not looking at him.

His hands stilled. "Oh? That's quite a statement."

"If he was a lunatic, he would've been caught already."

"You sound as though you know who he is." John looked at her, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Of course, not. It's just an opinion."

He finished up and pulled the hem of her chemise back down. She expelled a breath.

"Are we finished here?"

He stood up, already deciding what he was going to do with her. She knew who he was and that couldn't be tolerated. He didn't know how she knew, but she did.

She'd tell him, though. As a doctor, he was quite adept at applying the right pressure to the human body. The parts that caused the most pain. She'd talk and then he'd dispose of her.

He smiled down at Jane.

In fact, he'd make it look like another of the Ripper's victims.

Later, at dinner, when no one was watching he added a sleeping powder to HG's wine. He couldn't have his friend interfering with his plans for his 'cousin'.

Afterwards, he bid everyone goodnight and Mrs. Nelson showed him to the door. Instead of going home, he went across the street and hid in the shadows until he saw everyone last person turn their lights off in the Wells home.

Then he made his move.

Getting back inside was child's play. He'd unlocked a window in the back of the house before he'd left and now slipped back inside and up the stairs to Jane's room. He paused outside of HG's door and heard his deep rhythmic breathing.

Satisfied he'd get no resistance from that quarter, he struck quickly. Slipping up to Jane's bed and covering her mouth with a rag soaked in chloroform, he saw her eyes pop open briefly. They registered fear at seeing his face and she struggled.

But it was over after a few moments and she went limp. John worked quickly, having already formulated a plan for getting her out of the house.

He smiled at the irony of the situation as he undressed and then redressed her, taking her hair down to hide her face. Then he picked her up and carried her quietly down the stairs and out the back door. He put one arm firmly around her waist and hooked her arm around his neck. Her head hung limp at his shoulder and he smiled.

They they stepped out of the shadows and onto the sidewalk. He tipped his hat down over his face and began to walk, keeping Jane firmly by his side. To anyone watching, he was simply a gentleman having a good time with a drunken whore. No one decent would approach them and no one indecent would give two shits. He glanced down at her and grinned. She had dressed the part perfectly with a little help from him.

Looking up ahead, he noticed a cab sitting on the side of street, waiting for a fare. He picked up his pace, dragging Jane along with him.

"21 Waterford," he told the driver in a low voice, making sure to keep his head down. Looking up through his lashes, he saw the driver look down at them in mild consternation. John patted Jane's unconscious face and smiled. "She had a bit too much fun at the pub."

The driver looked away after a moment, shrugging. "Ain't none of my business, sir."

John hauled Jane up inside the cab and then followed suit. The cab would drive for ten minutes or so before stopping at the address John gave him. Then he would take Jane and walk around through an alley to his own house on Fordham Street. The plan would go off without a hitch, as it always did.

John felt something akin to delight. Dark, churning excitement twisted his stomach at what was to come. He leaned forward and took Jane's face. Yes, she _was_ pretty. She'd make a good Ripper victim, though she wasn't his usual type. He released her and sat back.

Suddenly, Jane stirred in place where she half-lay. Alarmed, he waited and watched as she struggled to move her arms and sit up.

Well, this wouldn't do.

"John…? Don't…" Her voice was too weak to carry above the sound of horse hooves on brick, but he wasn't going to take the chance.

He glanced up at the roof of the cab where the driver sat somewhere above them. Then he looked back and Jane and pursed his lips, raising his hand. "Apologies, Jane, but you can't be awake right now."

He hit her hard with the back of his hand, right across the side of her face, and the problem was taken care of. She went limp in the seat and then he sat back, waiting for the next part of their journey.

 **1892 John is really a bastard, isn't he? LOL.**

 **The next chapter should come quickly. I've already outlined the next 2 chapters in my mind. Without giving too much away, help will be coming for Jane before John does** _ **too**_ **much damage.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Warning: 1892 John behaving badly.**

 **I know I JUST updated today, but this is up and about so I figured I would post it and then get to work on my other Time After Time fic The Monster. That one is slowly becoming a favorite of mine, but I already know how this will end so I want to get it all out on paper before I lose the urge. Or will. Haha!**

When Jane woke up, she was naked except for a thin hospital sheet draped over her body. She moaned as a massive headache started pounding in her temples. She tried to sit up but her arms wouldn't move.

Or rather they _couldn't_ move. She looked down at her wrist and saw that it was tied with thick rope to the rails of a hospital bed. Panic rose high and swift as she saw the other one was bound as well.

How did that happen? Where was she? "HG!" she yelled, pulling against her restraints. "Help!"

"I'm afraid HG isn't here."

She looked over, startled at the voice.

John stepped out of the shadows with a cold, cruel sneer. He was toying with a knife, digging the tip into the pad of his index finger.

"You… you did something to me," Jane remembered. "What did you do?"

John pulled a stool over to the bed and took a seat. "I'll be asking the questions here, Jane, and before you start begging, no, I'm not going to let you go, and yes, I am going to kill you."

Her eyes widened in shock at his bluntness. "But why?"

His eyes traveled down from her face to her torso. Somehow she didn't think he was checking her out. "Because somehow you know about my … extracurricular activities, and I can't have that. If you tell me who you really are and how you know who I am, I will kill you without a lot of pain."

Her voice was hoarse with fear. "And if I don't?"

A slow smile curved his lips. "I was hoping you'd ask. Well, if you don't cooperate, I will still kill you. Except before that happens, you will be in so much agony that you'll beg me to end your life. Your choice. I really hope you pick the latter."

He wasn't pretending anymore. She could tell by looking at him. It was so strange, seeing his face but not the man she'd come to grudgingly like in the future. This wasn't her John.

That thought startled her. _Her_ John?

"Let's have it, then," he said abruptly interrupting her thoughts. "What'll it be? Quick and easy? Or slow and painful?"

"You're right," she said quickly. "I'm not HG's cousin. That was a lie."

He nodded. "I already knew that. HG told me earlier tonight. Where are you really from?"

That was easy. "I didn't lie about that. America, specifically Texas."

"How did you know my name before we'd even met?"

She hesitated. Trying to guess what was going to mess up her future and what wouldn't was nerve-wracking. "I… I've been following HG without him knowing. I saw you with him several times. I even followed you once or twice."

"Is that how you found out about me? About the Ripper?"

"Yes. I saw you once."

"And you didn't come forward to the police?" His eyes glinted in the low gaslight. "I find that hard to believe."

This was horrible. "I wasn't here for you. Or for … your victims. I was here for HG." God, please let him think she was just a harmless stalker. Maybe she could convince him not to kill her. Maybe.

He sat back, looking a bit disbelieving. "That's rather cold-hearted, don't you think?"

"You're one to talk," she snapped, losing her temper for a moment. She closed her eyes and tried to regain her composure.

He laughed. "I suppose you're right. Let me see if I understand you correctly. You were following HG, secretly, and in the process of doing that, you saw me killing someone and found out I am Jack the Ripper. Is that right?"

She nodded rather half-heartedly. It didn't sound believable when he put it like that.

"Then why did HG go along with your plan?"

She swallowed hard.

"Why, when the two of you were in my office, without ever meeting face to face before, did he suddenly agree that you were his cousin?"

"I… I guess he felt sorry for me. My … reputation and everything. We talked about it later and he agree to let me stay for a few days."

"Why were you at the hospital with a note pinned to your chest to Jack the Ripper? Were you trying to blackmail me?"

She shook her head. "I didn't mean for that to happen, I swear. I really was attacked and knocked unconscious."

John nodded and then placed his hands on his knees. "Well, then, I guess you're actually not to blame for any of this and I should just let you go."

Jane watched him warily, his words giving her hope, but her brain telling her he was messing with her. "That would be great."

"Well, if you weren't still lying to me, Jane…"

"I'm not, I swear." She was getting desperate. He couldn't know the truth, but he would kill her if he didn't absolutely believe what she was saying. What else could she do?

"There's something off about you. I know you're lying to me but about which part? I'm not sure. Not yet anyway." He expelled a breath and then stood up, pretending to look sorry. "Did you know that the bottoms of your feet are two of the most sensitive places on the human body?" He tossed back the sheet, exposing her feet, which also happened to each be tied to the bed frame. One fingernail scraped the arch of her left foot and she jerked away as best she could.

He took out a small black box and pulled out a long sewing needle.

"Please, please, please, don't! John, you don't have to do this," she begged, as he bent down over her feet. "I know there's a darkness inside you, but you're not a monster."

He paused and glanced up at her with scorn. "Oh, yes I am, Jane. And I'll show you how much." He slowly pushed the needle into the arch of her left foot and she screamed. John made sure that the pain of that one needle last for almost a full minute before he stopped and left it in.

"I'm not lying," she choked out, tears running down her cheeks. "I swear."

He sighed and pulled out another needle, this time going around to her other foot. "How do you really know me? I know it is not from spying on HG." He poked the needle against her foot without breaking the skin.

"It is, it is," she said, thrashing on the bed when he popped the needle in, this time faster than before. Her throat began to go hoarse from screaming.

He pulled out another needle and she broke down. What could she say that wouldn't be the truth? She wracked her brain, trying to remember any details of the Jack the Ripper murders that might help her now. "You… you met HG when the both of you were at school. You were in medical school and he was at … some other school. I can't remember."

"How did you know that?"

"I know all about you, John. I know that the real reason you've never married is because you're afraid." She tried to gather her wits and focus on him instead of the pain in her feet. "You're afraid of having children. You're afraid they'll turn out like you."

She just babbled now, anything to distract him. "Please, I know that deep down there's good inside you. I know you hate _this_ part of yourself. You can fight it, John," she added, desperately.

He lunged toward her and slammed a fist into the bed next to her face. She shook, eyes squeezed shut in fear. "I'd shut my mouth, if were you."

She obeyed, pressing her lips into a thin line.

After a moment, he straightened and expelled a breath. "I can see I'm going to have to use more extreme measures." He picked up the knife he'd been holding earlier and used the tip of the blade to drag down the sheet, all the way to the tops of her hips.

Air struck her bare flesh and she shivered, from cold, from embarrassment, and from fear. Her eyes glued to the knife, watching to see what he would do next.

Trailing the blade upwards, he spoke again, slow and composed. "Tell me the truth or my blade here will have its way with you. It _will_ hurt, Jane. Make no mistake." He dug the blade into the soft flesh of her lower belly, just enough to draw blood.

She closed her eyes. There was nothing more she could think of to say. Either way, he'd told her he would kill her.

Sudden pain in her side caused her eyes to fly open. He was ripping out her stitches! The irony that he'd saved her in the future only to kill her in the past was not lost on her. The muscles in her legs flexed uncontrollably, including her feet which still had needles in them.

The knife slowly cut away at the newly healed flesh where Brooke had stabbed her and she felt something warm trickle down the curve of her waist to pool on the bed under her. She hissed in pain and pulled against her restraints.

"You _are_ beautiful, Jane," John remarked, slowly digging his knife into the wound. He stopped suddenly and his eyes traveled up, lingering on her breasts, and then on her face. He walked around the bed, dragging the knife up and over one breast, causing her to tense. It paused at her throat. "It's a shame, really."

This was it, she thought. He was going to kill her now.

Long moments passed.

Instead, he cursed and tossed the knife back on the table. He flung the sheet up over her body and then walked away. Her heart leapt to her throat. What was he doing? She couldn't see him anymore and that terrified her.

 **Even after going over this three times, I must say I am not 100% pleased with this chapter. I'm about 85% pleased. It's nothing I can put my finger on, however, so I'm keeping it.**

 ***sigh***

 **Next chapter sees Jane getting a little help. Just in time.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry this took so long to get out, but after the last chapter, I didn't want to update something that I wasn't satisfied with. I rewrote a section of this several times until I could live with it. LOL. Hopefully, the longer than usual chapter makes up for it.**

John strode over to the liquor cabinet and withdrew a bottle of whiskey, pouring two fingers in a tumbler and downing it all in one gulp. It did nothing to help his frustration at not being able to kill Jane. He poured one more.

It wasn't the physical act of killing her that he was having a hard with. It was never that.

The problem was in his head.

He had a type and Jane didn't fit.

He threw the tumbler across the room and it smashed on the floor in pieces. His eyes traveled to the small window at the front door. Dawn would break soon. It was a bad time to leave a body, but he couldn't just keep her here. Once it was discovered she was missing, the chances of HG banging down his door, begging for help, were moderately high. Not to mention that the police thought she had a line to the Ripper.

He only had a couple more hours to decide what to do. His eyes closed briefly, and he exhaled through his nose. Then they snapped open.

He'd kill her and dump her body now.

 _Or you could keep her_ , a sly voice suggested in his mind. _Use her and get rid of her later._

No. He wasn't an animal. And besides, Jane wasn't his usual fare. Something about killing her wasn't satisfying.

What she said earlier about him _not_ being a monster…

 _But you are a monster,_ the voice whispered. _And soon, she'll realize that._

Indecision was terrible. He _had_ to kill her, that much was obvious. But he knew it wouldn't please him as it normally did.

 _Just get it over with then. Do her quick in the alley out back and then leave her._

Setting his jaw, he made up his mind and then checked his watch. The time read four-thirty in the morning. He went downstairs and walked over to the pile of clothing that he'd taken off of Jane earlier.

He walked over and tossed the corset, chemise, and stockings on the table, eyeing the wound that had now slowed its bleeding. No use in stitching it up, he thought. She watched him warily. "I'm going to untie your arms. Dress quickly."

"Where are you taking me?"

"I won't repeat myself." He gave her a menacing look and then took his knife and cut the ropes at both her wrists. She rubbed the raw flesh and struggled to sit up, holding the sheet close to her chest.

"Can't you take those out now?" Her voice was tight with pain and she looked down at her feet.

At least she would have a hard time running away, he reasoned, leaning over quickly, and pulling out each needle, one by one. She whimpered at the first one, but he did the rest quickly, wanting everything to be over. Then he straightened up and folded his arms over his chest.

"Are you going to watch?" she asked, annoyed when he didn't turn away.

Wounded feet or not, he wasn't giving her the opportunity to escape. "Yes."

She scowled and didn't move.

"I've already seen you without your clothes. Twice. Do as I say and get dressed."

"You are such an _asshole_ in this time," she snapped, grabbing her chemise and pulling it over her head.

In this time? Strange phrasing. "What language."

The corset she had a harder time with, but eventually got the front snapped in place. He cut the ropes at her ankles so she could put her stockings and boots on and then slipped the knife into his waistband. There wouldn't be much pain until she moved to stand. Walking would be excruciating.

He didn't care.

"What are you going to do to me?" She tried to sound brave, but he detected traces of fear and confusion in her voice.

"I've decided to let you go on one condition," he lied.

"What is it?"

"You leave London straight away. This morning."

There was barely a hesitation. "I will, I promise."

He nodded. It would be so much easier to control her if she didn't know what was going to happen. "I will hail a cab for you myself, and watch you get in it." He leaned forward and dropped his voice, low and menacing. "If I ever see you again, or if you tell anyone about me, I'll find you and _rip_ you apart. Understand?"

She nodded mutely.

He smiled and held out a hand.

"Why are you letting me go?"

He dropped his hand and turned away, pretending to think. Softening his voice, he said, "I… don't want to be a monster, Jane. You were right. I do hate the part of me that is the Ripper-the darkness inside. But I can't help what I am."

She didn't say anything for a moment. Then, "You are a smart man, John."

A slight shiver ran down his spine at his name. He did like it when she said his name.

She continued in a soft tone. "You can be more than just a killer. You _are_ more than just a killer. You're a _doctor_."

His shoulders tensed.

"I've seen the good in you."

His temper snapped and whirled around. "How can you _say_ that after what I've done to you? What game are you playing, Miss Walker? There is no good in me." He was practically shouting by the last sentence. His breath came fast and shallow, and for one second, the desire he'd once had to kill her flared back to life.

But it passed quickly and he remembered his plan. Stick to the plan.

"Enough of this. Come. We don't have much time." He held out a hand to her. Would she trust him? Did she see through his facade? Had he ruined it by losing his temper?

Apparently not. She took his hand, hissing in pain as her feet hit the floor. He schooled his expression to one of concern. "Here, let me help you."

She let him pull her arm around his neck to brace her weight and they started up the stairs. He noticed how warm her hand was, curled against his neck. It was soft and small.

He hated it. A part of him wanted to fling her away and be done with her.

 _Focus on the task at hand_ , a voice whispered.

Gritting his teeth, he hauled her up the stairs and to the back door, off the kitchen. It was still dark out. Good. "Now stay silent and this will all be over with soon."

Jane shivered at his side when they stepped outside. The air was cold against her aching body. John maneuvered them down an alley toward a main street, beads of sweat forming in anticipation on his forehead. The only sound was the clicking of their boots on the cobblestone. John scanned their surroundings and saw no one.

Suddenly, Jane sagged at his side, her arm slipping from around his neck. Turning to catch her, he felt all the air in his body _whoosh_ out from a sharp blow to his stomach.

What in the bloody hell?

He looked up clutching his stomach and saw Jane running away. Well, _hobbling_ away. She'd hit him! Sudden white-hot anger stabbed through him and he chased her down, grabbing her by the hair and throwing her into the side of a building. "What do you think you are doing?" He dug his fingers into her shoulders until she winced.

"Getting away from you," she spat. "Did you think I was really going to fall for your plan? You were bringing me here to kill me!"

John smiled, dropping the act and withdrew the knife from the waist of his trousers. "I guess I was hoping."

Jane screamed and he clamped his free hand around her throat, cutting her off. She writhed and squirmed in his grip, but he relaxed when he realized she wasn't going anywhere. The tip of his blade dug into the flesh right under her left eye.

 _Hurry…_

"Our time is at an end, Miss Walker. I usually enjoy a woman's screams, but tonight be a good girl and die quietly." He swung his arm backwards and prepared to plunge the knife into her stomach. A dull roar filled his ears.

And then a blinding pain exploded in his head and he staggered backwards, clutching it. His knife clattered to the ground. Right before everything went dark, he saw Jane limping away and knew he was done for.

XXXXX

 _A few seconds earlier…_

Spots danced in front of Jane's eyes when John slammed her against the wall. She couldn't think for a moment. His hands were brutally strong, digging into the soft flesh of her shoulders.

His voice was low and dark. "Where do you think you are going?"

"Getting away from you! Did you think I was really going to fall for your act? You were bringing me here to kill me!"

She watched John's mask fall away and she trembled. He smiled down at her.

"I guess I was hoping."

There had to be someone close by, anyone who would hear her. She screamed as loud as she could until her throat closed off and she couldn't breathe. A large hand gripped her neck. She pulled and clawed at it, to no avail.

John said something then. "...time is … end. Be… and die quietly."

Black tinged the edges of her vision but she could see something to her right. A person. A man. Someone familiar...

John suddenly released her and she fell to the ground, coughing and spluttering. Someone strong gripped her arm and pulled her back up.

He was calling her name, distantly at first, and then louder and clearer.

"Jane? Jane? Can you hear me?"

Her vision focused and she saw John in front of her. Instinctively, she pulled away and tried to run. He tightened his grip and glanced down at the body at his feet.

"Jane, it's me. We have to go before someone sees us."

"John?" she whispered, frowning. He was different. His beard was gone, his clothes were modern, and most of all, the look in his eyes was … _human_. She sucked in a breath and looked at the ground where 1892 John lay sprawled unconscious. "Oh my god, you came for me." And intense rush of gratitude and relief filled her and she almost hugged him. Almost.

The fact that his past self had just tortured and tried to kill her tempered her response.

His dark eyes were full of concern. "Yes, but we have to go before he wakes up. Can you walk?"

She nodded. To get the hell out of Victorian England, she'd run.

"Let's go. HG is waiting with the time machine on the edges of the city. We couldn't risk either of our past selves seeing it before it was time."

Jane bit back a cry of pain and forced herself to walk quickly out of the alley and back towards the house she'd just been a prisoner in. John wrapped an arm around her shoulders to stead her and she resisted the urge to pull away.

 _He saved me_ , she reminded herself, _and right now I need him. I can sort out my feelings later._

Every step she took felt like those needles were being pushed back into her feet, but she limped along. John noticed, glancing down briefly. His jaw clenched again.

"Jane…"

When he didn't say more, she looked up. "What? What is it?" She looked over her shoulder to make sure the other John was coming after them.

"I… I'm sorry. Truly."

What was she supposed to say? That she _forgave_ him? No. It was way too soon for that. "Let's just get out of here."

He stopped and faced her. "You can't walk. I have to carry you."

"What? _No_." She really didn't want him touching her anymore and her temper was wearing thin. Her poor feet felt like needles were being jabbed inside them all over again, with every step she took. "I just spent the better part of my night being drugged and tortured by you, so forgive me if don't want you touching me right now."

Was that hurt in his eyes?

She ignored it and pushed past him, heading in the direction he'd been leading her.

"I have a man waiting for us just up ahead, around the house," he said finally, his voice sounding perfectly fine and not at all like she'd wounded him deeply.

"Fine."

They finished the journey in silence and when she saw the horse and buggy parked on the side of the street, she practically ran to it, sighing in relief. The driver was no one familiar, but he helped her inside, making no comment about her appearance. After all, she still looked like a prostitute.

John climbed in afterwards, never taking his eyes off her. She ignored him for the most part, but questions banged around in her mind, forcing to finally speak.

"How did you find me?"

"I remembered." His words were simple and yet so profound to Jane.

He _remembered_.

"I take it from your expression that this never happened in your timeline?"

Her tone was bleak. "No. It didn't."

He was silent for a long moment. "I've been dreading this day for some time now." She looked up at him in surprise. "From the moment I exited that time machine and saw your face…"

He trailed off and Jane swallowed hard. What he was saying was crazy. "The John I knew tried to kill me." He flinched and her eyes went hard.

"I was a different man, Jane-"

"I'm not talking about what just happened," she cut in. "I'm talking about the past. _Our_ past. In 2016. You're a murderer. A serial killer."

"No. Not anymore."

"People don't just change, John-"

He lost his temper. His voice was a mixture of pain and anger. "That's not what you've spent the last few weeks telling _me_ , Jane. The time we've spent together-in France … hell, everytime I see you-it _did_ change me." He leaned forward too quickly and she withdrew, suddenly afraid that his temper would get the best of him and he'd attack her. His face looked pained at her reaction. "I know what I did to you. How I hurt you… I realize you can never forgive me for that, but just know that I would never hurt you again. I couldn't."

Before she could answer, the driver stopped the carriage quickly causing Jane to pitch forward. John caught her around the waist and shoulders, pulling her close against him.

"Are you alright?" he asked her in concern.

She nodded and for one split second, looking into his face, she remembered what it had been like to hold onto him while he kissed her … deep and slow… She remembered how he saved her life as she bled out on the floor of Brooke laboratory. How he let himself be hurt to get her medicine…

Then she pushed away and went back to her own seat. She was in no mood for memory lane. Maybe someday she could get past everything that had happened in 1892, but until then… she wanted nothing to do with him. She'd hit her limit for understanding him.

"We're here," he said shortly, descending from the carriage and holding out a hand. "You may not want to touch me, but getting down in those shoes, injured, isn't safe."

She glared at him and did it anyway, hissing and holding her breath in pain. Walking was excruciating! But then she saw the time machine and HG running over to them.

"Jane," he said excitedly, spreading his arms to help her into the machine.

She'd never been so glad to see anyone in her life. HG was a good man. Moralistic, generous… Not a sadistic torturer. She threw her arms around him and planted a kiss right on his lips. Drawing back, she said, "I've missed you so much."

HG looked stunned and confused. "What…? Uh, John?"

Jane frowned at HG and looked over her shoulder at John. He stood with fists clenched, looking as if he wanted to kill someone. A sliver of fear ran through her at the expression. It looked vaguely familiar.

Instead of answering his friend, John pushed past the both of them and bent over, entering the time machine. "Let's just go."

Jane was confused at the exchange. HG stood awkwardly to the side and gestured for her to go in. She did and limped over as far from John as possible. He didn't look at her.

HG got in last and then stuck the key in the slot and turned it. "Everyone ready?"

That didn't require an answer. They were more than ready. The machine began whirring and the windows iced over. A few seconds passed and then everything stopped. Jane had time traveled enough to know they'd arrived at their destination. She took HG's hand and gripped it hard, counting on him to help her up.

And while he did, the look on his face made her puzzled. Something niggled at her in the back of her mind, but she brushed it away. John was leaving and HG was helping her to exit the machine. Everything was going to be alright now.

"Jane, it's so good to see you." Vanessa beamed, walking over with outstretched arms to hug her.

"She needs a doctor," John said before walking out of the room.

Vanessa looked her over in concern. "You look tired. Are you hurt?"

Pressing a hand to her side, Jane limped over to a chair and nodded. "My stomach and my feet. Help me get these boots off."

Instead of HG kneeling to help her, it was Vanessa. Jane looked at him and frowned. While Vanessa worked her boots off, Jane asked, "What's wrong with you?"

His eyes widened. "Me? Nothing. It's just that you seem a little … strange. I know it can't have been easy and, of course, John wouldn't tell me anything. Only that you're life was in danger."

"Yeah, from _him_ ," she snapped, inhaling sharply when Vanessa tugged one foot free. "Why isn't he locked up or something?"

Vanessa and HG looked at each other. HG spoke first. "Have you too had a fight?"

Jane was rapidly losing her patience. "We've been fighting since the day we met, HG. Or have you forgotten what he's done?"

"I haven't forgotten," HG said slowly. "What exactly happened back in 1892?"

Jane expelled a breath and then told them everything. HG of course remembered her and was glad he could finally tell her.

"I never knew what happened to you when you disappeared. The police searched everywhere, but it was all dead ends. They eventually gave up." He came over to sit next to her. "I couldn't risk you knowing what would happen. I wouldn't even let John tell you, though he wanted to." Understanding dawned, as if some clue had finally been made available to him in his mind. "That's why he was so angry with me, so afraid when you'd been sent back."

"Why are you defending him?" she snapped, wincing when Vanessa freed her other foot. "He's Jack the Ripper, for crying out loud, a murderer."

HG looked at her in surprise. "I haven't heard you call him that since the very beginning."

Jane suddenly felt very tired. As if there were huge gaps in her understanding that she just couldn't fill. " Can we quit talking about him for now? I'm so tired."

They helped her to her feet and she let go and stood on her own. Turning to HG, she said, "Can we go somewhere and be alone? I've missed you."

HG shook his head and threw up his hands. "First you kiss me, and now this? Jane, I think you must have suffered some sort of head wound. You're acting very peculiar, indeed."

She gaped at him. "Peculiar? HG, I know you're old-fashioned but we've kissed before. I'm sure Vanessa doesn't mind our talking about it."

He gaped at her. "I've never done anything of the sort-

"Oh my God," Vanessa cut in, staring at Jane. "The timeline's changed, hasn't it?"

Jane looked back and forth between them, noting the bewilderment on HG's face. "No matter how it's changed, there's no way something like this could've… HG, what are we to each other in this timeline?" She swallowed hard, feeling as though she knew he answer to that before he even spoke.

"Nothing more than very good friends, I assure you. John would kill me." He snorted and then looked very apologetic. "Bad choice of words, but you know what I mean."

The niggling feeling in the back of her mind grew stronger. She could no longer ignore it. "What are you saying? That I- That John and I-" She couldn't bring herself to speak the words.

HG grew uncomfortable with the situation, but Vanessa helped out. "You two have become close, recently. He's actually been helpful, though I'm loathe to admit it. I mean, it's not as though we're all one big happy family or anything, but there's an understanding."

"What they're trying to say, and failing _miserably_ ," John cut in, appearing suddenly in the doorway looking irritable, "is that I love you, Jane. And whether you wanted to admit it or not, you loved me too."

She looked at him, shocked.

"Except _you_ can't remember that."

 **Finally, the chapter's done!**

 **Alright, so I figured as I was writing this that there would be questions about the last part. About how realistic the changes to John, Jane, and HG would be. Don't worry. I plan on addressing what happened in the alternate timeline in the next chapter. Basically, John becomes fixated on Jane, while trying to figure out who she is and how she came to be in the past. Things go from there.**


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